


The Case Of Old Friends & Psychokinetic Children

by Arctic_comet



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake Dating, Falling In Love, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctic_comet/pseuds/Arctic_comet
Summary: Nancy Wheeler’s belief in the supernatural has landed her a job at the FBI, trying to solve cases nobody else can. When she’s finally assigned a partner, she gets more than she bargained for in the form of her old friend Jonathan Byers. The two are faced with the sudden occurrence of a string of murders seemingly connected to children with very special abilities.Post season 1 AU. Romance/mystery, trying to reach 50,000 words. Inspired by the X Files and Bones. Set in 1995.Rated M for sexual situations, disturbing imagery and some violence.





	1. Old Friends

_Case file #763285-62358_

_Male with strange markings around his neck found in a suburban home in Richmond, Virginia. Victim found strangled in his own bed._

_Medical examiner and investigators unable to determine murder weapon._

 

Nancy Wheeler could feel another migraine coming in. This was another run-of-the-mill case. Nobody had bothered to think out of the box and due to the influx of new cases piling up, they'd given up and moved the responsibility to her. Taken the easy way out. 

Her career at the FBI had taken a nosedive when she'd refused to give up on the impossible cases. Asked too may questions. Therefore she now found herself sitting in a small basement office with no windows. She wasn't expected to be able to solve most of her cases, but to the surprise of her superiors, there had been some major breakthroughs. The issue with that was that the second she figured out a new clue, the case was handed back to more senior agents. _Male agents._ It was a rare thing for her to be able to solve a case on her own, to see it all the way through.

Surprisingly, her phone rang before lunch time.

"Agent Wheeler speaking."

"Agent Wheeler, please report to Director Peterson's office right away."

She rolled her eyes. _What now?_

"I'm on my way."

The Director's office was five floors up, but she lingered, waiting for the elevator instead of opting for the stairs, which were usually faster. Peterson had been on her case ever since she'd been hired. She'd heard rumors that he wasn't a big fan of females under his command in the first place, and the ones who didn't bother to suck up to him would usually draw the short end of the stick, so Nancy was in no big hurry to comply.

The door to Peterson's office was closed as she approached the desk of his assistant, Patty. 

"What's going on?" She inquired, lowering her voice. Patty was always good for some office gossip, and she liked Director Peterson about as much as Nancy herself.

"There's a young man in there with him. I think you're going to work with him," explained Patty, her eyes wide with excitement over being able to deliver big, important news before her boss could do it.

Nancy's eyebrows shot to her hairline. _A partner? Or a babysitter?_

"Thanks, Patty."

"You're welcome, Sweetie. Good luck!"

She turned back to shoot Patty a grateful smile before knocking on the wooden door.

"Come in."

The door knob turned easily, revealing Director Peterson's office, complete with the portraits of him with the current Attorney General, as well as President Reagan. Just the very sight of that man made her blood boil. According to her dad, he was the best president the country had ever had or would ever have.

The young man Patty had mentioned now twisted his shoulders to face her, and his face stopped Nancy in her tracks. Taking in his sharp cheekbones, kind brown eyes and the startled expression on his face, she felt a warmth spreading through her. _Jonathan Byers._ The boy who had haunted her dreams for way too many nights, as well as some days. 

"Nancy," he murmured, still looking as if he couldn't quite believe she was standing right before him.

"Jonathan. It's... Good to see you," she replied, struggling to force herself back to professional mode. 

"You two know each other?" Asked Director Peterson, his gaze jumping between them.

"We were classmates in high school," she answered for both of them. _And friends. And we could've been so much more than that._

 Jonathan nodded, apparently having recovered from the initial shock of seeing her.

"Yes, Sir."

"Will this interfere with you working with her?" Asked the Director.

Jonathan shook his head. "Not at all, Sir."

"Excellent. Agent Wheeler, meet your new partner. Agent Byers is new in D.C., we got him from the Chicago field office."

A million questions were running through her head. _How had Jonathan Byers ended up working for the government of all possible entities? Why had she not been told about this partnership thing before this? What had made Peterson assign Jonathan with her? What had they been talking about before she'd come into the room?_

"Welcome to Washington, Jonathan," she said, extending a hand. He squeezed it back, returning her tense smile.

"Thank you," he said, clearing his throat. "I look forward to working with you," he continued. It may have sounded just like another empty compliment from a man, but Nancy got the sense that he meant it. After all, he hadn't been into bullshit talk back in high school. People changed, though. _But could he really have changed that much?_

"I'm sure you will show Agent Byers the ropes and  make room for his things in your office, Agent Wheeler," said Peterson, his attention already back to something on his computer screen. The two of them had become an afterthought. Something to be dismissed with a wave of a hand. Was Jonathan used to being treated like this? If he wasn't, he wasn't letting it show as he turned to her with an expectant look on his face.

"Follow me," Nancy told him, sauntering out of Director Peterson's office with Jonathan at her heels.

"How long have you been working here?" He asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"A couple of years. Did Peterson tell you about the cases we work on?"

"He mentioned something about challenging, extraordinary cases. I took it to mean the kind of stuff we saw more than a decade ago."

She nodded. "You got that right."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Nancy, but I never thought you'd end up working here," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Likewise. I would've never in a million years figured that you'd want to work for the the government."

Jonathan shrugged. "Got to pay the bills somehow. And I do get to take lots of photos."

Nancy took the opportunity to observe him as they stood side by side. It looked as if he'd put on some muscle, and the new lines on his face made him look like a man, instead of the boy she'd allowed to sleep beside her. _Nancy Wheeler, age 16, scared of monsters._  He was also the boy she'd kissed after senior prom after a few drinks. Things had been... Beyond awkward after that, and they'd lost touch.

"So, Jonathan, are you still as bad of a shot as you were ten years ago?" She asked with a grin, stepping out of the elevator in the basement.

"No, but I'm willing to bet you're still better than me," he quipped quietly. 

Pulling a key out of her pocket, she unlocked the door to her office. Well, _their_ office, to be more accurate.

"Welcome to your new office," she said, moving inside the room to allow Jonathan inside.

He looked around, nodding slowly, blowing out a breath. "Right."

 ***

Jonathan guessed it made sense. The last thing the government wanted was to give too much credit or power to people who wouldn’t think twice about going after the authorities if that was what the situation warranted.

Nancy was much as he remembered. Smart, tough, curious and beautiful. He’d spent way too long trying to forget about her after their adventures in November 1983. Sometimes a part of him wondered what could've happened if he'd fought for her. He'd nearly gone into cardiac arrest at the sight of her. Sure, Director Peterson had spoke of a female partner, but Nancy? He would've never guessed. Working with her was sure to be interesting. As much as she was clearly under appreciated by her superiors, he selfishly wanted this. 

“What do you think?” She asked, looking around the room while biting into her lip as if trying not to laugh.

“They must think you’re extremely dangerous. You should take it as a compliment.”

“That’s an interesting take. Then I guess you’re deemed just as dangerous.”

“Or maybe as invisible as I was ten years ago," he voiced, half-serious.

“You were not invisible to me.”

He nodded. “I know.” Their eyes met, an uncomfortable smile taking over both their faces. Jonathan wondered if they could really be thinking about the same thing. The fact that she'd given him his first kiss, and it was still the one he remembered best. 

"Uh, so, I assume you know the operating system we use?" She asked, moving her gaze to the second computer currently sitting in the corner of her desk, unplugged. 

"Yeah. You could show me the archives, and then I'd like to get to work if that's all right. What are you- we- working on right now?"

"A male murdered in Virginia, nobody's been able to figure out the murder weapon."

"You think it's up our alley?"

Nancy shrugged. "I was about to head over to the archives to look at some old case files, if there are other murders with similar markings around the victim's neck as in this one. Here's the file," she replied, the brown folder landing on the desk in front of Jonathan.

He opened it, skimming the notes before focusing on the photos. Visual evidence was always what interested him the most, whether live or photographic. The photos in this case were rather startling. It almost looked like...

"Nancy?"

"Yeah?"

"What are your thoughts on the markings around the victim's neck?"

"They look like branches or sticks... But then again, there's that row that looks like-"

"Teeth marks?"

"Exactly, and I know what you're thinking, but take a look at page ten."

Jonathan flipped to page ten, skimming the medical examiner's notes. "There's nothing here on him having lost blood," he murmured.

"That's what I was wondering about, too. Let's have a look at the archives first, but at some point I think we should drive to Richmond."

"Agreed."

"Are you going to be our designated driver?"

"Is your driving still as bad as when I let you drive my car that one time?" He joked.

Nancy rolled her eyes, but then turned back to grin at Jonathan. "Unless you really want to find out, how about your drive?"

"I'll drive," he agreed, not minding the thought of a road trip with her at all.

As they went through dozens and dozens of old murder cases, he wondered once more how he'd ever ended up as an FBI agent. Claiming it was about nothing but money as he'd told Nancy was only half of the truth. He'd never liked guns, but now carried one. He had always been skeptical of the government, and yet now they employed him. They'd been willing to let his brother die and even staged a fake corpse just to get his mother off their backs. He hadn't forgotten. And yet he was now doing what the powers that be would probably consider to be the worst job in the entire office. They couldn't have been more wrong. 

"Jonathan, take a look at this. The markings look almost the same, but there are no teeth marks," she mused, holding up a black-and-white photograph. Trying not to lean in too close to avoid any misunderstandings, he peered at the picture. She was right.

"When did this happen?"

"1980. Maryland."

"Looks like it could be the same murderer."

"There's still one box to sort through. You want to give me a hand?"

"Sure." 

He was the one to find the third case. "I think I found another one," he announced, producing a photo of a woman murdered in 1987 in upstate New York.

Nancy nodded. "Looks like our murderer doesn't care about the gender of the victim. The other two are men."

"The woman's got the bite marks, too."

"I think we're looking at someone who chooses the victims carefully ahead. They were all attacked in their own homes, in the middle of the night. There's no evidence of struggle or forced entry, either."

"So it's someone who moves around very quietly and doesn't leave any traces."

"Yeah, no strange fingerprints were found at any of the murder scenes."

"Would you mind if we drove to Richmond after lunch?" He asked. "I want to have a look at the victim's house."

"And I want to talk to the medical examiner. I don't know how she could overlook the marks."

 As the two of them sat in his car on their way to Richmond, he couldn't help but be impressed by her professionalism. Not that he would've expected any less from her. Now he could only hope to live up to her standards. It was strange how he could feel her sharp gaze on him despite only staring at the road ahead.

"What is it?" She asked. 

"Oh, nothing. I was just hoping you don't mind us working together," he confessed.

"I don't. I know it's been a long time since we were last in touch, but-"

"We work well together. At least I think we do."

"We do. I'm sorry, for the record."

"About what?"

"About not being in touch."

"What's there to be sorry about, Nancy? I went to college, you went to college. You're not obligated to stay in contact with people from high school."

She scoffed. " _People from high school?_ We were friends, in case you've forgotten!"

Of course he hadn't. She'd been his best and only friend outside his family. That one kiss... It had probably ruined everything. It shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have let it happen. So it was on him at least as much as it was on her.

Sighing, he answered "I'm sorry, too. I could've tried to reach out to you, too. How about we.. Forget about it? Not talk about it again?" He suggested.

"Okay. We can be only colleagues from now on."

Wincing internally, Jonathan kept his mouth shut. He didn't mean for them to be nothing more but colleagues. 

"How's your mom? And Will?" She asked after a while of awkward silence.

"Oh, they're good. Will's in med school now, and Mom seems happy with Hop. I heard about your parents' divorce. I'm sorry."

Nancy snorted at his apology. "Are you kidding me? Do you remember what I told you about my parents, Jonathan?"

"About them settling on a boring little life?"

"Exactly. My mom's a lot better off now. She's even been dating. Not all divorces are a bad thing."

"I know. My parents' divorce was like Christmas, the 4th of July and Thanksgiving all put together."

"Then you can imagine how relieved I was to hear it was finally happening. I could've ended up exactly like them..." She trailed off, and he watched as she turned her head to look out the side window.

"You with anyone now?" He asked, wanting to take the question back immediately. This was definitely none of his business.

Nevertheless, she was smiling as she turned back. "No. I'm married to my job. What about you?"

"Single. Probably permanently," he replied, suddenly wanting to loosen the tie around his neck. _God._ This was not a good topic.

Jonathan sighed in relief when they reached Richmond city limits a few minutes later. He needed to get better at this _colleagues-only_ thing. Perhaps with some practice.


	2. Twigs and Bodies

As irritated as Nancy was by Jonathan's indifference, it was time to get back to work. Why did she even care how he remembered their relationship? _Connection? Friendship?_ Whatever it had been. He was still every bit as stubborn and closed off as nearly a decade before. He's just a colleague. It had to be some kind of twisted sense of nostalgia that drove her to care more than she ought to. It didn't matter whether he was seeing anyone.

“Is the murder scene still sealed?” He asked, clearly wanting to get back to work as much as she did.

”Well, I’d hope so. That’s what the local police told me. We’re meeting the lead detective at the scene.”

”Good.”

 A lone car stood in front of the victim's house, and a middle-aged man leaned on the front porch. That had to be Detective Stone.

"You from the FBI?" He asked in place of greeting, approaching the car as they got out.

"Yeah. This is my partner Agent Byers, and I'm Nancy Wheeler," she replied, shaking the detective's hand.

"Pleasure, although I don't know what the two of you could possibly get out of the scene. If you don't mind, I've got other places to be, so I'll open the door and leave you here."

Jonathan nodded absent-mindedly, already focusing his camera on the wooden porch parts.  "We can lock up after ourselves," he said.

"I'll check the house if you comb through the yard," Nancy suggested.

"All right. I'll meet you inside when I'm done."

She was more into written notes, so she dug out a pen and followed Detective Stone inside. The smell was musty, but she thought she could still detect a hint of blood. "There was no blood found here, right?" She asked, frowning.

"That's right."

_So why could she smell it then?_

Everything in the house seemed ordinary enough. This victim had been single, but the other two had had spouses. The remnants of Reed Meadows' last supper were still in the sink. They had been screened for toxins, but nothing had turned up. The wooden counters of the kitchen were mostly unstained and everything was in its place. As she ran a finger along the surface, she was surprised to find it come off sticky.

"What's this? Did they wax or oil the surfaces?" 

"Not as far as I know," the detective shrugged. "Maybe Meadows did it himself the night he was killed."

"There was no note of this in the initial report."

"Must've been an oversight."

Or the substance hadn't been there at that point. Was the local police truly this inept or was something else going on?

"I'm leaving now, Agent Wheeler. So unless you have any other questions-"

"I'll be in touch if I needed," she told him, stepping over the threshold of the bedroom.

A person had died there, and death had its own, distinct smell. Sweet and sickly. After the death of her best friend in the hands of a monster in 1983, she'd seen countless corpses. It never got easier, and it made her all the more thankful that she had never to lay eyes on Barb's dead body. 

Swallowing as she concentrated on breathing through her mouth, she looked around the room. Someone had made an effort with it; the wooden panels on the wall were intricate with their decorations, and shiny, as if recently oiled.

The bed was empty, as expected. Carefully, she moved the bed to look under it, and behind the headboard. 

It was easy to miss it, but there it was. A stray twig in the corner, next to one of the feet of the bed. Nancy bagged the piece, holding it against the light streaming in through the windows. 

"I'm done outside." She jumped at the sound of Jonathan's voice, her hand flying to her gun immediately as her heart raced.

"Jesus, Jonathan. I could've shot you," she sighed, staring up at him. His jacket had green stains on it, and there was a twig in his hair. She found herself smiling despite her stupid scare. It was the house. Murder scenes were often creepy enough without a partner who moved without making a sound, not to mention that she wasn't even used to working with a partner of any kind.

"Sorry. Look, I found something."

"Me too."

"Is that it in the bag?"

"Yup."

"I found a similar one. Also got some nice shots of a trail someone or something left in the woods. It's up in trees."

"I figure this has something to do with wood. All wooden surfaces in the house are oiled, but I'm willing to bet it wasn't our victim who did it."

"Do we know if the other two murder scenes were located near a forest, or if there was a substantial amount of wood used on the house?"

"Let's check in the car."

"You want to go to the ME's office next?"

Nancy nodded. "Yeah, but first... Hold still," she told him, reaching up to pick the twig from his hair. He looked bewildered at her gesture, which was highly enjoyable. She could even swear that a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as she pulled away, holding out the twig for inspection.

"Just wanted to take this off. It’s not very dignified for a federal agent,” she mused. "And you need to get that jacket washed. What did you even do out there? Climb in the trees?"

"Well, actually, yeah," he admitted with a grin.

"Good thinking."

"Thanks."

The house revealed nothing more as they took a few last glances at the rooms while crossing them as they approached the front door.

"Do you think it'll come back? Or he?" He asked.

"I doubt it. It seems to want to move around a lot, probably not staying in the same place for long."

"The time between the murders is long though. You know how serial killers are, Nancy."

"True. It could be a creature."

"That eats only every seven or eight years?"

"Maybe we don't know of all the killings, maybe it hibernates, maybe it's from You-Know-Where. We don't know anything."

"Have all your previous cases been like this?"

"Most of them are nothing but hoaxes. I get the cases because the original agents were too lazy, too busy or too stupid to figure them out. Their leftovers, so to speak. This... I feel like this could be the real thing," she confessed. It both excited and unnerved her. These murders were not something the FBI wanted the public to know about. _Would she be fired if she went out and suggested a creature from a parallel world had committed the murder?_

***

It turned out that both previous murders had taken place in or close to wooded areas. Jonathan was glad this wasn't his first time seeing something inexplicable, because otherwise he could bet he'd be just as inclined to ignore evidence as the police here had seemingly done. 

"I've never seen anything like this, Nancy," he confessed.

She lifted her blue eyes to his, nodding, her face serious. "Me neither. I mean... Something that gets its energy from trees or other plants? Is it a human with special abilities or a creature, more like-"

"The Demogorgon?"

"Exactly."

"If it's really a creature, it might still be in the woods." _Should they go out looking for it or evidence of it?_

"Yeah. It's getting dark, though. We can comb through the forest tomorrow, see the ME now."

He nodded. "Let's do it."

While he steered the car to the other side of the town and the medical examiner's office, he wondered if she thought of him truly as a partner, or more like an assistant. He'd followed her around too much as a love-struck teenager. There would be no more of that. 

The medical examiner was a woman around a decade older than them. Dr. Rawlings.

He observes as the frown between Nancy’s eyes deepened with every question she asked.

“She’s hiding something,” she hissed our of the corner of her mouth as the doctor told them to wait so she could get the key to the morgue.

They were led to the cool room where the cadavers were stored. Jonathan hated morgues in general, but even more than that he hated the examination tables they used to open up the bodies. It was all so clinical, so impersonal. He’d never been good with people, and despite Nancy’s insistence that she wasn’t used to working with others, her people skills were still much better than his. 

“Jonathan, look at this,” she whispered, her breath touching his neck.

He turned to look at the body and what Nancy was pointing at. The neck. The pinpricks they’d believed to be bite marks. They weren’t there anymore.

”See, Agent Wheeler. Just as I told you. No bite marks, no puncture wounds.”

How could this be? They’d both seen them in the photos taken at the crime scene.

"What do you believe caused these marks, Doctor?" Asked Jonathan.

Dr. Rawlings shrugged. "I can't say. At first I thought he'd somehow been strangled with a tree branch, but that wouldn't make sense, either."

“Thank you for your help, Doctor,” Nancy muttered. “I’ll be in touch.”

Her frown still hadn’t left her face when they reached the car and buckled their seat belts to head back home.

“I think what or whoever the killer is, they’ve got regenerative powers.”

”Because there was no sign of blood loss even with the teeth marks present?”

Nancy nodded.

“I guess that’s possible," he conceded.

”You think I’m going overboard with this.”

”I just think we need to check out the woods first.”

“We need backup to be able to cover the entire forest, Jonathan. It’d be stupid to go out there alone.”

”I disagree. If we bring in a dozen people, it’s going to run and we’ll never find it again.”

”This is _my_ case, so I’m making the calls.”

”No, it’s actually not. It’s ours, and you're not my boss, _Agent Wheeler_.”

Nancy raised her hands, pursing her lips. “Fine. You’re right. Do whatever you feel is necessary, _Agent Byers_.”

Hell. He wanted them to work as a team. Was that really too much to ask for?

”I’m going into those woods tomorrow, whether you join me or not,” he stated, determined not to let her derail his thoughts on the case.

”I won’t. I’m going to talk to Detective Stone and the victim’s neighbors. We can meet up later.”

”Good.”

“Just for the record, Jonathan: I never asked for a partner in the first place.”

”I figured as much.”

”It’s not personal, I just prefer doing my own thing. I’m pretty set in my ways, so it might be impossible to adapt to a partnership.”

”You’re already trying to smoke me out? Hoping I’ll find other interesting positions? Just for your information: they assigned me to work with you because they see me like you do. A silent loser who doesn’t always even carry a gun.”

That silenced her.

”I don’t think of you like that.”

”Yes, you do. To you, I’m an assistant. Look, I didn’t come to D.C to bother you. I didn't even know you were here."

”Then why did you come? You’ve spent the last 28 years of your life barely venturing a hundred miles from your family. What’s changed?” She asked, the volume rising. 

”Because this is D.C. Because it was about time for me to live a bit further away from my family. See what’s out here for me.”

He missed his family, but in some ways being away from hem felt liberating. Will was happy. His mom was happy. At the end of the day though, they were all he had.

She stayed silent for the rest of the way home, giving him a mere nod of her head before marching from the car. Jonathan sighed. He hadn’t expected the day to end like this. At this rate he’d be begging for a transfer by the end of the month. No. He wasn’t going to give in. They could both fit in this city. 

That night he had the strangest dreams. There was a man with limbs of wood, you could even see all the separate leafs, branches and twigs, little nooks made by insects. Scratch marks made by beasts. It chased him through a forest with an obvious murderous intention. He shot up in his bed right when it caught him, his heart pumping wildly. Just a dream. Nevertheless, that wasn’t even the weirdest dream he had. That title belonged to the one he  had after finally settling down again.

_They were back in Meadows’s house. She reached to pick up the twig from his hair like she had, but instead of taking a step away from him, she stayed close, laying a hand on his chest._

_“Nancy, what are you doing?”_

_”You’re still the best kiss I’ve ever had.”_

_“You don’t even remember what it was like. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me, I shouldn’t have kissed you back.”_

_”Remind me, Jonathan.”_

_Without any sense of control, he dropped the evidence bag and tilted her head up before meeting her lips with his. Forcing her mouth open, he thrust his tongue inside, laying claim on her. She tasted of the cheap beer they’d got from his mom’s fridge. Nancy moaned, responding to eagerly as he ran his fingers through her hair. A nagging thought in his brain told him that something was wrong. Very wrong._

_The scene changed. It was the middle of the night, but they were still inside the house. They were not alone. Loud snoring echoed throughout the house, suddenly interrupted by a thud and a yell. Just one. It was him in the bed, not Meadows. Nancy was gone, but the monster was in there with him. Stalking it’s prey. It pounced, and he screamed, but there was nobody to hear it._

His alarm went off at 6:30, and Jonathan staggered into the shower after spending the last two hours lying awake and wondering about the quirks of his subconscious. The kiss had been more than a figment of his imagination, it had been a memory he had stopped replaying years ago. Until now.

He could’ve taken the dreams as warnings, but he wasn’t about to change his plans. Nancy could question the local police and Meadows’s neighbors while he tried to find more evidence in the woods. Dreams meant nothing, but still, he checked his gun was in working order before leaving the apartment.

Nancy was as sour as the day before, barely sparing him a greeting. She focused on the three case files during the drive, so there was no need for small talk. He felt bad about his outburst, but not guilty enough to try to patch things up at the moment. 

“See you later,” he said as they parted in front of the local police station. She nodded and seemed satisfied to walk away from him, but at the last minute she stopped, turning back.

”Stay safe. Let’s meet here for lunch at one, okay?” She suggested.

”All right.”

”Do you need extra bullets, just in case?”

Jonathan shook his head.

”No thanks, I’ve got spares. See you for lunch." 

With a look in the rear mirror, he saw her staring back, still wearing that concerned look. _It was going to be fine. He was armed, had his camera, and they had a job to do. That was it._

 

 


	3. The Forest

Jonathan parked the car in front of Meadows' house, shoving the spare clips into his pocket. Convinced he had all he needed, he approached the edge of the forest. The track in the trees created by missing and broken branches was still visible in the cool October morning. After checking he had enough film left on him, he left the relative safety of the yard and crossed over into the thicker part of the woods. According to the maps he had tucked away inside his jacket, there weren't supposed to be any inhabited buildings anywhere in the forest. The area separated the suburb Meadows' house was in from another, very similar one. 

He made sure to photograph the entire trail, climbing into the trees as was needed. None of the trees were particularly higher than the ones surrounding it, so it was difficult to find a good vantage point to see what was coming up ahead. He was going in essentially blind. The truth was that he would've felt a lot more confident had Nancy been there with him, but he was going to make the most of what he had. And one of those things was dried blood. In a tree. He climbed higher, following the red streaks. _Was the creature bleeding or was this Meadows' blood?_

The dried blood hadn't served to make him overly anxious, but as he kept on following the trail, the substance turned sticky at first, then liquid but cool, and then warm. Shit.

Something was close. The birds he'd heard singing earlier had quieted as well. Swallowing hard, he did his best not to alert the creature to his presence. _What if he found its nest?_

Very slowly, he reached for his gun, pulling it out as silently as possible. He arrived in an empty clearing and stopped. Turning in a circle, he looked into every direction, attempting to take note of all trees and bushes around him.

Heart pounding, he began lowering his gun, until he heard the sound of rustling leaves. It was coming from somewhere right behind him and he realized he was trapped. 

Something large pressed against his back, it felt like a tree trunk. However, his attention was more focused on the clearing itself. It was getting smaller, the trees inching closer and closer to him, closing him in.

He had time to squeeze out one shot before the tiny branches wrapped around his throat, suffocating him, tiny barbs piercing his skin. His vision became cloudy as his brain was depraved of oxygen. Before he lost consciousness, he thought about his family, Will's and his mom's faces flashing before his eyes. Then it was Nancy, the look full of concern she'd been sporting as he'd left her at the station earlier that morning. 

_Had the entire trail from the house been a bait to lure someone in?_

After finishing that thought, blackness took over.

 ***

”Jonathan! Jonathan, can you hear me?” She shook him frantically, a hand on his cheek. It felt warm on his cool skin.

Air rushed back into his lungs as fast as it had left them, and the darkness dissipated, leaving a fog behind. Jonathan gasped for air, drawing in air in large gulps. He barely registered Nancy's voice, her hand on his cheek.

Taking another wheezing breath, he coughed so hard his eyes began to water.

“Easy, easy. Can you talk?” She asked. His eyesight finally returning, he took in his surroundings. Nancy was crouched down beside him, a gash on her forehead. The clearing hadn't returned to its original state, but the trees had stopped moving. _Damn. Did that even really happen? Or had he hallucinated the whole thing?_

“Yeah,” he panted. “It... I think there was a drug in those branches at tentacles or whatever they are. I still feel a little funny, to be honest.” _Was this real? Was she real?_

“I’ll take you to the hospital to be checked out.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just let me sit here for a minute."

Nancy scowled at him.

“Because you know exactly what kind of toxins you’ve got in your bloodstream?”

“No. Because I know you got medical training and you can check me out better than some doctor who has no idea what they’re even dealing with.”

“First of all, we don't have much of an idea either, and I'm not a doctor!”

“I still trust your judgment.”

She sighed. “Fine, no hospital. But you’re sleeping on my couch tonight, I need to keep an eye on you.”

 Nancy shook her head, as if realizing what that must've sounded like.

“What I mean is that if you want me to take responsibility for your care, I need to observe you in case there are any delayed reactions to the toxins. And I'd like a blood sample, we can run a tox screen.”

“Got it. I’ll stay with you."

”That’s going to leave a scar,” she muttered, examining the scratches on his neck, her fingers tracing the wounds gently. He winced at her touch. _Jesus. How could something this tiny hurt so much?_

“That’s a small issue,” he replied as he reached for her hand. The one with the scar on it. His hadn’t completely faded yet and he found hers was still there as well. It was faint, but not gone. _This had to be real._

“Remember?” He continued, gently pushing on the scar with a fingernail.

Nancy suddenly froze and he was sure she’d snatch her hand back, but she stayed utterly still.

“Of course I remember. You still have yours?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s as faint as yours.”

“Soon they’ll be gone for good.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to forget about what happened.”

“It’s pretty hard to forget about a monster crawling out of the ceiling of your house and our first fight with a real monster,” she said, laughing.

“True.”

Smiling, he released her hand, sensing the moment had passed. 

“Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my life. I don't know what you did or how you did it, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome. _Partner._ ”

“You know I have your back right?”

She nodded. “I do. I’m sorry if I’ve been weird about this... Like I said yesterday, I never asked for a partner, so it’s a big adjustment.”

“Would you rather have it be a total stranger instead of me?”

She looked away from him anddidn’t answer at first.

“No. Not at all.”

***

Nancy's hands were still shaking when they reached the car, but she still confiscated the keys from Jonathan, insisting that he was in no shape to drive back. It was true; his movements were sluggish and his pupils dilated. When she'd found him, that tree wrapping around him... She'd emptied her gun right into it. Only now was she realizing that she could've just as easily hit Jonathan. Nevertheless, it had been the only way to save him. The thing had retreated, wounded. She'd briefly pursued it at first after making sure Jonathan was breathing, but it was _gone_ just like that... As if it had melted into the rest of the trees. 

"How did you do it?" He asked, accepting a water bottle from her.

"Well, the visit to the station didn't get me anywhere, but then I had the detective bring me here. One of Meadows' neighbors started ranting about trees that moved, and I... I thought I should check on you. I followed the trail from the house until I got to the clearing with all those trees coming up on you. One of them had you... You were turning blue," she stopped as shudders threatened to take over her body again. Seeing him like that... She liked to think she could look at things professionally even if someone she knew was involved, but seeing him being squeezed to death had made her act out of sheer instinct. Forget half of her gun training.

"And it gave up?"

"It released you and escaped. I couldn't find any trace of it, although I must've wounded it."

"It's not dead, though."

"How do you know?"

Nancy saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye. "I just do," he answered. 

Despite their agreement that he wouldn't be treated at the hospital in Richmond, they made a stop at the lab to have his blood drawn before heading back to D.C. On the way home, Jonathan leaned against the window, his eyes drifting closed. She probably shouldn't let him sleep at this point, so she gave him a nudge.

"Are you still feeling weird?" 

"What?" He asked groggily.

"Earlier you told me that you were feeling funny. What did you mean by that?"

"I was... I wasn't sure if any of it was real. Do you think I have permanent brain damage? From being out for so long?"

She swallowed hard. His behavior after regaining consciousness had been slightly unusual, but that didn't have to mean anything. "I- I don't know. You seem lucid enough now, but don't go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

There were many things she didn't usually let herself dwell on, and now she had a new one; Jonathan tracing her scar. What they'd done that night so many years ago still felt like a blood pact. Connecting them until the scar no longer lingered. Or perhaps even longer than that. Some scars didn't heal even if they were no longer visible.

"Have you already got your own place all sorted out?" She asked, wanting to keep him awake and talking.

"Hmmm... Yeah, mostly. I don't own much."

Smiling to herself, she thought that at least some things stayed the same. It was a strangely welcome thought.

"Well, I don't spend much time at home. So there's barely anything in the fridge. We can get takeout."

"Honestly... I don't feel like eating."

Nancy sighed. "You're worrying me, Jonathan. I need to take you to a hospital in D.C if I think there's any chance you might need it."

"I'll be fine."

Still, she wasn't convinced, abandoning the idea of Chinese takeout for the time being. 

"Nancy, this is totally unne-" He began as they parked in front of the hospital.

"No, it's not! How do you think I'd feel if you died on me?" She asked, giving him her best stare. He didn't avert his eyes from hers, but nodded.

"Fine. You should go, I'll get myself checked in."

"No. We're both going in, I need to know what's wrong."

"I could call you."

"I'll wait."

Jonathan sighed. "All right. Now, what the hell are we supposed to tell these people? That I was attacked by a poisonous tree?"

That was a very valid question. "Uh, let's just settle on telling them that we're from the FBI, that you've been injected with a toxin, someone tried to strangle you and that the rest of the details are classified."

"Have you ever had to go to the hospital because of a case?" He asked as she led him from the car towards the emergency room. Nancy couldn't help but notice the slight wobble in his steps, as if he couldn't quite balance himself. She'd made the right decision in bringing him in.

"Yeah, for regular cases. But for a... _Strange_ one, no." She'd had some bruising from simple accidents and one from a scuffle with a psychotic suspect, but nothing like this. 

***

The hospital staff asked too many questions, or at least they tried to. Not that either one of them had many answers to give. Eventually they got Jonathan settled into a bed, with an IV line going in his arm. According to the tests, he was dehydrated. The tox screen had come back negative for any known toxins. That worried Nancy even more. If the toxin was unknown, so was the antidote. 

The room was meant for two patients, but the other bed was fortunately vacant. She paced the free space on the floor, her head filling with the most awful theories. 

"Nancy?" He called out.

"What?" She snapped, her head flying up.

"You're going to dent the floor soon. Sit down."

"You could die, how can you be so calm?" she blurted, not knowing who else to voice her fears to. _There was nobody else._

"My vitals are stable, right?"

"Yeah, for now."

"The doctors didn't seem too worried. I'm feeling better, to be honest. The fluid's working miracles."

"I hope so," she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. The hospital room was cold. Or maybe it was her.

"It makes sense that an otherworldly monster would have otherworldly toxins too, doesn't it?" He mused. "I mean, they never found anything in Will, although he must've had all kinds of venom in his system."

"It does make sense, but it doesn't help us right now."

"I guess it doesn't."

"I'll ask you this again: how can you be so calm about this, Jonathan?"

He swallowed, averting his eyes from hers, staring at the fan whirling on the ceiling instead.

"I already thought it was over for me... But you saved my life. I don't know, I guess it's because I don't feel like the effects of the toxins are getting any stronger at this point."

A nurse poked her head inside. "How are we doing here, Mr.- Agent Byers?"

"Fine, better than before."

"Good. Your vitals are looking excellent, and the doctor thinks you can be discharged."

"Now?" Asked Nancy, not believing what she was hearing.

"Yes. She's with another patient now, but should be here soon. She'll get all the paperwork ready and then you can be on your way."

"Thank you," replied Jonathan, already throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

Jonathan's discharge papers arrived within a half an hour, allowing them to leave the hospital, with Nancy still feeling a hard lump in her throat every time she swallowed. 

"Nancy, do you want to get that takeout now? I'm buying, since you cam- What's the matter?" He asked, when she wouldn't start the car but merely stared at the windshield.

"Nothing."

For several breaths, neither one of them spoke. She didn't want to dwell on her old feelings of guilt. _Her best friend. Dead. Because she'd been an idiot._

"Do you... Do you feel like what happened to me was somehow your fault?" He then asked softly, his voice barely audible.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she admitted.

"Don't feel guilty, Nancy. I'm the one who went there alone. It was my decision, and I take full responsibility for it."

"Please, let's not- I don't want to talk about this."

"Fine."

"I know a good Chinese takeout place that's not too far from my apartment."

He sighed in what she figured was frustration, but nodded. "That's good, because I'm starving."

"That's a good sign."

"I told you I was better."

He did look better, and sound better than before, but still... The memory of his blue-tinted face and ice cold skin refused to leave her. 

 


	4. Sleep

"Make yourself at home," sighed Nancy as she opened the door to her apartment. 

Jonathan looked around the place, removing his jacket. There was a small living area, a kitchen that appeared to be seldom used and a bathroom and a bedroom. There were a few books scattered here and there in addition to some family photos, usually depicting Nancy with her mother and siblings, but aside from those, there were few personal items to be found.

"You don't spend much time here, do you?" He asked.

"Not really. I'm usually at work," she replied, cracking the fridge open to peer inside. She frowned at what she saw. "Ummm, I don't think I've got enough food for breakfast. Sorry, I guess I'm a little tired," she admitted.

Taking pity on her, he stepped behind her and shut the fridge door. "I'll take care of it in the morning. You invited me to stay here so you can watch me, the least I can do is make sure we get breakfast." 

As she turned to face him, he at last took notice that they were standing close. Very close. Too close. The events of the day had left him more shaken that he'd cared to admit to her, but her concern over his well-being still got to him. Her blue eyes were wide as they regarded each other, and he wished he could comfort her in some way, and perhaps find peace of his own as well whilst doing it. However, there was no doubt in his mind that even a hug would be crossing the line. He'd been half delirious in the forest when he'd caressed her scar and it had been a stupid move for sure, but he couldn't be bothered to regret it. What was done was done.

"Thank you," she said, effectively ending the moment. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks. I think I need to get some sleep."

"That's a good idea. You can take the bedroom and I'll-"

"No way. This is your place. I'll be fine on the couch."

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. "All right. I'll grab you a pillow and a blanket."

As exhausted as Jonathan was, sleep eluded him. Maybe it was about the unfamiliar surroundings, but the general unease he felt made him nervous. It was probably the memory of the attack that was making him jumpy, but it was as if his mind was telling him to stay alert. He was also reasonably certain that Nancy wasn't sleeping either. He could hear her tossing and turning, her small bedroom not too far from the couch. She'd insisted on leaving the door open so she could check up on him more easily. They were hardly keeping each other company in their insomnia, but he was grateful for the gesture nevertheless.

His unnerving thoughts turned into restless dreams. He woke up to Nancy shaking him as he gasped for air. He was choking again.

"It's all right," she told him, a hand on his shoulder. "Take a deep breath."

"It's here," he gasped.

"No, Jonathan. I got here as soon as you started sounding like you couldn't breathe, and there was nothing here, just you."

He nodded, although his entire body was shaking and covered in cold sweat. If it hadn't come after him tonight, it would eventually. 

"Thanks for waking me up, Nancy. You can go back to bed now," he told her, sitting up on the couch.

"I don't think so. You don't look fine to me."

"It was a dream, like you said."

"Even so."

"So are you planning on sitting here all night then?" He asked, shooting her a wry smile.

"Either that, or you can come and get in bed with me. I already know you can keep to your own side after all," she said, her tone light and flippant.

 _Was she serious?_ He had no idea of what the proper response would be, so he settled on shrugging even as he could feel himself beginning to sweat like it tit when he got anxious. _Jesus. Was he really twenty-eight years old and could barely function when thrown a curve ball by Nancy Wheeler?_

“If you’re sure,” he mumbled. It was hard not to think of the night he’d spent in her childhood bedroom, unable to sleep because he was scared of rolling into her in his sleep and coming across as an even bigger creep than she surely found him to be at the time.

”We both need sleep, and I could tell you had a difficult time getting any earlier.”

”You weren’t exactly doing much better yourself, were you?”

Nancy sighed. “No, not really. Even with this job, you don’t actually face monsters every day. I’d take a human serial killer any day before one of these, to be honest.”

”It’s the fear of the unknown.”

”I guess. Are you coming?” She asked, getting to her feet.

She padded into the bedroom, flicking the living room lights off once more. 

Her bedroom was a far cry from the pastel-toned haven of her room in Hawkins. It was practical and comfortable, with only a drawer for clothes pushed against the far wall. 

“You can take that side,” she nodded towards the still pristine segment of the comforter.

He considered the bed, wondering if he should fetch his blanket from the couch. Nancy solved his dilemma by throwing the covers off the entire bed. A lamp was still burning on the bedside table as he got in and settled down.

"On or off?" He asked, with a sense of dejá-vu so strong that he wondered if laughing out loud would be inappropriate in their current situation.

She tried to cover her mouth behind the duvet, but failed, revealing the smirk on her lips. She remembered as well as he did.

"You decide," she quipped, still not turning her back to him.

Jonathan flipped the switch, leaving them in darkness. 

"Do- do you think there's any chance it might follow us here?" He asked, leaving the more disturbing questions unasked, knowing she was missing the answers as surely as he was. _Do you think this thing is one of those that refuses to give up on a victim it's set its sights on?_

"I'd like to say no, but can we really know?"

"I guess not."

"I have a gun in the drawer on my side, just in case."

He closed his eyes, listening to the rhythm of Nancy's breathing. It was calm and even, a perfect constant for him to focus on. Little by little, he drifted off. The only time the steady rhythm of Nancy's inhales and exhales was interrupted took place when he felt something on top of his hand. She wasn't squeezing it, it simply lay there, on top of his.

 ***

Jonathan was asleep at last, his peaceful slumber giving Nancy relief despite the faint snoring sounds emanating from his throat. Still some of her concerns refused to ease. _What if that thing could get to him through sleep?_ So far it hadn’t attacked anyone who wasn’t sleeping alone though, so she thought it best to have him sleep beside her. 

His presence was familiar, as if her subconscious still remembered the night he’d spent in her bedroom. It had been a very long time since anyone had slept in that bed aside from Nancy herself, so this should have been weird. Sure, it had been a little awkward, but not nearly as bad as it should’ve been.

Her hand had sought out his for comfort, reassurance and connection. For whose benefit, she couldn’t say. He hadn’t flinched at the touch, so she’d left her hand there. Where it could feel his warmth, the blood moving in his vessels.

She didn’t often yearn for human connection or ask for it, but she liked this. Maybe she was a fool to think he was still the same sweet young man as ten years ago, that he was still worthy of her trust, but what other choice did she have? The case they were dealing with was unlike anything she’d seen in her career, and now, against all odds, she had someone to talk to. Someone who didn’t immediately dismiss her.

It had been for the best to move on, but for now she found herself reliving their kiss, taking a few moments to live in the past. It had been all too brief for teenage Nancy, whose only regret had been that they hadn’t take things further. She’d had a couple of drinks at that point, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d wanted it. Why he’d stopped, he’d never explained and she wasn’t going to ask him. She’d accepted that nothing would ever become of them nearly a decade ago, there was no reason to open that particular Pandora’s box.

He sighed in his sleep, his hand wrapping around hers to pull it closer to his chest. She let him do that, moving to a more comfortable position herself. It was true what they’d discussed about the scars earlier; that they’d fade soon enough, leaving no visible trace that anything had ever taken place. Nevertheless, memories weren’t just physical. They would stay with them for the rest of their lives, and that way they would always be connected.

In the morning Nancy woke up alone in her bed. A glance at her alarm clock told her that it was still pretty early, so she laid her head back on the pillow. A delicious scent was drifting into the room, promising a heavier breakfast than her usual coffee and cream cheese bagel. 

With a yawn, she left the bedroom to see what exactly was smelling so good. 

Jonathan was standing at her stove, muttering something to himself in a low voice. He was of course wearing the same clothes as the day before, but his hair was uncombed and sticking up as if he’d just got out of bed. Resisting the urge to smooth it out for him, she interrupted his lonely musings.

”Did you know that you talk to yourself out loud?” She asked, chuckling.

”I do?” He looked slightly embarrassed at being caught. “I haven’t lived with anyone since I moved out of mom’s, so there hasn’t been anyone around to tell me that.”

”Well... As your partner, I don’t mind it. Keep talking.”

He hid a grin by turning his head back to the food.

”I popped out to the store earlier. You really don’t have anything in the fridge.”

”Told you.”

”So you live on takeaway dinners and coffee?”

”Pretty much,” She confessed.

Nancy watched Jonathan shake his head in disbelief.

”What’s so weird about a workaholic FBI agent living off restaurant food and caffeinated drinks?” She challenged, narrowing her eyes at him.

He scoffed. “Nothing, it’s me who’s being weird.”

”How come?”

Exhaling deeply, he turned off the stove and placed the spatula (she was honestly surprised he’d even flung one in her kitchen) on the counter before finally speaking.

“You know how I grew up. What our finances were. We didn’t usually have dinner outside the house. I guess those old habits have stayed with me. I don’t like to waste money on takeout if I can help it,” he explained.

“Oh,” she replied, nodding. What else was there to say? The ensuing awkwardness was almost enough to make her wish she’d never asked for an explanation.

”So, uh, how about some coffee?” He asked, pouring her a freshly brewed cup.

”Thank you.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted pancakes, toast or an omelette, so I got everything,” he said, setting a steaming plate in front of her.

”This is amazing. Really. Nobody’s cooked for me since my mom.”

”And I haven’t cooked for anyone since I lived with my mom and Will.”

”But you cook for yourself now?”

”I try to," he nodded, taking a seat opposite to her. 

"Are you feeling up for going to work today?" She asked, deciding to change to subject.

"I can't afford a sick day. The photos from yesterday and the day before need developing," he replied.

Nancy was about to argue that she could do that for him, but bit her tongue. She only knew the basics of developing photos, and ruining Jonathan's photos was something she'd rather not be responsible for.

"Okay. You develop the photos while I update the case notes and journal."

Recalling the events of the past two days for her notes was hard, the part with Jonathan's attack causing her the biggest difficulties. 

 _Found Agent Byers being attacked by a creature likely to have committed at least three previous murders. Agent Byers suffered effects from the toxins released by the creature as well as some external injuries, including abrasions and scratches. Toxin remains unknown even after laboratory tests._  

Pausing, Nancy considered whether to mention Jonathan's vivid dreams of the creature coming after him again. Could it truly be considered credible evidence? She decided to only mark it down in her own personal case journal for now, leaving the decision on whether to include it in the official count to Jonathan himself. 

After a couple of hours of writing, her shoulders were so tense she could hear them cracking as she rolled them. Getting up from the chair, she groaned. It was clearly time for a break. Jonathan had disappeared into the darkroom as soon as they'd got to the office. Perhaps she should check on him. 

She rarely used the darkroom herself, but Jonathan looked perfectly at home there. Like he belonged there, in the eerie red glow.

Wholly engrossed in his work, he didn’t even notice when she entered the room, so she stopped right inside, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

He was mumbling to himself again, but she couldn’t make out the words. 

“Have you found anything new?” She asked, making him jump.

”Nancy? I didn’t know you were here.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you. You looked so focused.”

”Yeah, I just got the Meadows house and forest photos developed. You can come and take a look.”

Most of the photos had been hung up to dry already, but some were still immersed in the fluid, the photos just beginning to form on the paper.

"I haven't found anything we hadn't considered, but I think it was watching me right from the moment I entered the woods on that first day," he said, his voice steady.

Her head flipped immediately to the photos he was looking at. 

"See, there?" He pointed at a pair of smudges that did indeed look like eyes. Nancy shuddered. That thing had been right there when they'd visited the victim's house for the first time.

"Why do you think it came back?" She asked. "It already got Meadows... Why was it back?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's like human serial killers in a way... That it feels compelled to return to the crime scene to relive the kill."

"You shouldn't be alone at night until we've caught it," she muttered, recognizing what a silly thing it was to say. 

He chuckled. "I can't move in with you, Nancy," he joked. "Look, I'm an FBI agent and I'll be prepared. _If_ it even does come for me. Like we've determined, there's no way of knowing for sure. Let's go and grab some lunch in the daylight."

They returned to their dusty little office to take their wallets, but the phone on Nancy's desk rang just as she was about to lock the door behind her. She brought the phone to her ear. The Richmond detective's voice was frantic. _Last night. Another body. Same method of killing. A suspect._ The uneasiness brought on the discovery in Jonathan's photos was back with a vengeance, a heavy weight settling somewhere between her stomach and her throat with every word she heard over the phone.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," she assured the man on the other end before setting the phone back on her desk.

”Well?” Jonathan inquired, his brows high on his forehead.

”That was from the Richmond PD. There was another killing last night, and this time they have a suspect in custody.”

”A _human_ suspect?”

”I know, I’m as surprised as you are.”

"Did he say anything else?"

She shook her head, grabbing her purse as she got to her feet. "We should get going."

"Okay."

"I'm still driving, Jonathan."

"You know I'm fine by now," he began to argue, but there was little fire to it, and she grinned to herself as he handed over the keys with a sigh.

"Not taking any chances. Let's go."


	5. The Suspect

They made it to Richmond police station in record time. 

"Where's the suspect?" Nancy asked, before Detective Stone had a chance to even utter a greeting.

"In one of our interrogation rooms."

"Lead the way. Please," she added reluctantly, remembering it would be best to stay on his good side.

Following the detective, they ended up in a room with a two-sided mirror. On the other side was your standard interrogation room, with nothing more than a table and two chairs. A small form was slumped over the desk.

"That is..." Started Jonathan.

"A child," she completed.

"He must be like ten years old."

"Yeah. Detective, you can't be serious about this."

"Well, we are. He was found at the murder scene, in a locked room with the body, with nobody else around. He also... Jesus, I don't even know how to say this without sounding like a nutjob-"

"He does what?" Asked Jonathan.

"I think he can mold metal. With his mind. It's some weird shit."

"Telekinesis," whispered Nancy to Jonathan.

"Sounds like one of our mutual friends," he murmured back.

"We'd like to interrogate him," she told Stone.

"My boss isn't going to be crazy about that, but... Go ahead. I guess you're the ones with more experience on freaks."

Unsure if she should take it as an insult, Nancy ignored the detective and entered the room, with Jonathan close at her heels. The little boy didn't even raise his head when they closed the door.

"Hello," she said. Still no reaction.

"Hi there," tried Jonathan. _Nothing._

"Are you hungry?" She asked.

The boy shook his head, still keeping his face mostly hidden, with only a fair mop of hair sociable.

She pulled out the second chair, dropping into it.

”I’m Nancy, and this is Jonathan. What’s your name?”

The boy mumbled something she wasn’t unable to decipher. 

“Can you please repeat that?” She asked, turning to look at Jonathan, who seemed to be trying to repeat the boy’s words to make sense out of them.

”I think his name is 33315A,” he suddenly said, striding towards the table. “Did I get that right?” 

A nod.

It was a code. _Like Eleven’s._

”Okay, I think we should call you something else. How about Adam? Would that be okay?”

Another nod.

“We’re here to help you, Adam. Do you think you could answer some questions?”

Adam nodded.

”Good. Did you know that man who the police found dead in the same room they found you?”

A nod.

”Who was he?” Asked Jonathan.

Now Adam lifted his head at last, facing not her, but Jonathan.

“A bad man.”

”Did you hurt the bad man, Adam?” She asked.

He seemed to hesitate at first, but then shook his head.

“Do you know who did?”

A nod. “The tree monster.”

Nancy’s eyes flew to Jonathan’s. Nodding at her, he crouched beside the boy’s chair.

”Could you please tell us everything you know about it?” He pleaded.

“Are you going to kill it?” Asked Adam.

”Do you think we should?” She asked in return, remembering how it had tried to kill Jonathan and not feeling particularly merciful.

“I don’t know. It does bad things, but good things too.”

”That’s why you should tell us more about it. So we can understand it better.”

”Okay... I’ve seen it four times. Only once inside. It doesn’t like being inside, but in the forest... That’s where it lives.”

"Why do you think it came to the bad man's house?" Asked Jonathan.

"His house was in the forest, so I think it thought he didn't belong there."

Could that truly explain all the killings? Was that the reason for the attack on Jonathan as well? 

After a while, she told the boy that hey would be taking a short break. 

“Let’s talk in the car,” she whispered to Jonathan before he started speaking in front of the local police department. He nodded, opening her the door leading to the parking lot.

”There’s no way he did it,” he sighed before he was even seated.

”I don’t think so either, but that doesn’t matter. They think he’s dangerous.”

”I know...” His voice trailed off, his gaze no longer focused on anything. She knew that look. It was probably exactly the way she looked when she was formulating a plan.

“You’re thinking of something that’s both illegal and going to get us fired and possibly even killed, aren’t you?”

Jonathan turned back to face her, flashing a smirk.

”What would happen if I was?” He asked, shrugging.

”I’d say that you should tell me about it.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure you made it clear only a couple of days ago that you don’t trust me. Why should I trust you and not get it done on my own?”

Although  could see that he wasn’t being entirely serious, she suddenly felt defensive of her suspicions.

”People can change, Jonathan... But you don’t have another ally here, do you? So the way I see it, you don’t have another choice. Besides, I already saved your life, why would I want to see you waste it by going to jail or dying now?”

After throwing a somewhat exasperated look at the roof of the car, he exhaled deeply.

”I want to let him out. He’s going to get in trouble if they keep him, or worse, he might end up back where he came from!”

”That’s true, but who’s going to look after him if we do that? You’re not Jim Hopper with a convenient cabin to hide him, are you?”

”No, but hear me out, Nance.”

 _Nance?_ She hadn’t heard that nickname in years, but she kind of liked him calling her that.

”We need to get him to Hawkins,” he finished firmly. 

She drew in a deep breath. It was an idea. He was right, but how were they going to do it?

”And how are we going to do that?”

He blinked, seemingly surprised that she hadn’t already told him that he had to be insane. Somehow she found that thought hurtful. Hadn’t they been just as crazy back then?

”We call Hopper to pick him up and then help him escape. Or if he has powers like they claim he does, then he might not even need much help, but only some convincing.”

”We’re going to prison for this,” she informed him, but even she couldn’t hold the grin off her face. They both had to be off their rockers.

It would be a few days before they could make it happen, but at least they weren’t going home empty handed. 

***

”So you think Brenner- or at least someone who knows him- has been experimenting on kids somewhere on the east coast?” He asked, voicing almost word for for what she’d been mulling over since they’d started the drive back to DC.

”We should look into that’s possibility. I mean, Brenner should be dead, but you never know, right?”

”Right. At the same time, I don’t think dragging El into this is a good idea. Especially if it’s Brenner we’re dealing with.”

Nancy knew just as well as anyone that the Byers family was close with Chief Jim Hopper and his adopted daughter, who was also her brother Mike’s girlfriend, but she doubted the girl would appreciate Jonathan’s protective big brother routine in this instance. Besides, they were professionals and as such, they should set their personal feelings aside.

”She might be our only key to solving this, Jonathan. I know you’re trying to protect-“

”You’re accusing me of making an emotional decision? We’re talking about your brother’s girlfriend, so I think you should be-“

“And now you’re accusing me of being cold? Get over yourself.”

”She deserves to be a normal young woman.”

”And yet you insist on treating her like a fragile flower. Do you even remember the things she can do? How brave she is? She’ll want to help us, help that poor kid in that cell.”

Jonathan sighed, slapping a hand on the dashboard. "Fine. We'll leave it up to her, but I really wish there was another way."

"Me too."

They parted at the office for the weekend, and Nancy was home earlier than usual. The apartment felt cold and empty, now devoid of her partner’s presence as well as the delicious scent of his cookings. The only trace that he’d ever been there was the fact that her kitchenware was placed differently than she was used to. It took her time to locate a pan to cook water to boil herself an egg. It was annoying, but at the same time it was a sign of another person’s touch at the apartment. Someone who had cared enough to cook for her without being asked to. 

 ***

Jonathan hadn’t been too picky about his first D.C. apartment, figuring he could always look for something better at a later point in time, when he’d settled in properly. Now, he noticed new imperfections about the place every single day.

Back home in Hawkins, taking care of the house was one of his duties. Peeling paint on the walls? He’d go out a get a can of paint. Mildew in a corner? It was up to him to scrape off the ruined material and repair it. Leaky roof? Up his alley. They often didn’t have enough extra cash for a professional, so his work was the best they could get. 

Even now when he should just give his landlord a call about the stained floorboards, he found himself spending his Saturday at a hardware store. 

Would his floorboards be enough to lead the monster to him? Because there was no way he was buying that 10-year-old as the thing that had attacked him. 

It turned out that fixing the apartment was a great remedy for his uneasiness about their case and his own fears. Sports had never been his thing, but working up a sweat while seeing the results with his own eyes was rewarding. 

When he finished painting the bedroom, it was already past 6 PM, and the sky outside was darkening. Getting himself a glass of water from the kitchen tap, he was surprised to hear a knock at his door. 

Since you could never be too careful and he was still reasonably unfamiliar with the neighborhood, he peeked outside, observing a familiar head full of dark hair, his mouth curving into a smile. 

“Hey,” he greeted, opening the door.

”Hi,” she replied, seemingly doing a double take at his appearance. He looked down, realizing he was still wearing a sweaty paint-streaked grey t-shirt and equally paint-stained old jeans. Flushing, he reached up to scratch his neck.

”I was, uh, painting. And doing other work on the apartment.” Shaking his head, he stopped himself from babbling. Why would she care? She was probably there on business, especially after their argument on the way back from Richmond.

”Come on in. What brings you here on a Saturday, Nancy?” He asked.

”I know I should’ve called, but I guess I was curious to see where you live,” she answered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

“Do you want something to drink? Or eat? I was going to make pasta.”

”Pasta sounds good, if you don’t mind dinner company.”

”Has there been a development in the case?”

”Nothing I’m aware of. How did you sleep last night?”

Diving into his fridge to grab ingredients for the pasta, he tried to avoid answering. The truth was that he hadn’t slept a wink, but he didn’t want her to think he was too sensitive to work cases like this one. In addition, he preferred keeping the fact that he’d really liked sleeping beside her to himself.

”Not that well, I guess,” he admitted.

”Nightmares?”

”No. It bothers me that we haven’t been able to make much sense of this.”

Nancy nodded sympathetically. “I feel the same way.”

He watched her move around his place,  suddenly feeling embarrassed of not having a couch. There's really nowhere to sit aside from the kitchen island and his bed. 

"So, you’ve been painting here?" She asked.

"Yeah. I figured it was easier to do that now rather than later, when I've got all my stuff set up."

She smiled at him. "You're weird."

"I thought you've always liked that about me."

"I do. Doesn't change the fact, though."

Setting two plates on the counter, he ladled tomato sauce over the pasta. 

"Dinner's ready."

"Smells great. Look, I didn’t come here to apologize for what I said about El, but I wanted you to know that I get where you’re coming from. The thing is, I want to get you on board with my plan, so we can solve this,” she spoke softly.

“I never said I wasn’t on board, Nancy. I just said I didn’t like it.”

”So we’ll contact El.”

”Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure if her intention was to leave right after dinner, but somehow they ended up  sitting on a spare mattress he was using as a makeshift couch. The TV was turned on, _Jaws_ blaring.

”Are you sure there’s nothing else on?” She asked, wrinkling her nose at his choice of programming.

”What? Not in the mood for _Jaws_? Is that even possible?” He joked.

“I’ve seen it at least twenty times, Jonathan. Let’s watch something else,” she argued, reaching for the remote.

Jonathan woke up around 2 AM, with the TV still on. Nancy was still there too, now slumped against him on the mattress.

He couldn’t escape the thought of how nice this was. Just the two of them in his small apartment, her calm breaths the only sound in his ears. Jesus, his mind was playing tricks on him. He didn’t do relationships. It only made sense for him to feel lonely in a new city and to attach himself to the only familiar person there. 

Shifting, he struggled with his thoughts. The best choice would be to wake her up so she could go home...  But it was late. So he settled on moving her to a more comfortable position on the mattress and covering her with his extra quilt before turning off the TV and retreating to bed. She was so dainty, like she’d been as a teenager, but there was an undeniable strength to her that he’d found irresistible back then. It seemed that a part of him still agreed with that original assessment.   

 

***

Somehow he expected to find her gone when he woke up and padded into the living room, but she was still sound asleep. He walked straight past her, not giving into the temptation of watching her. A head full of messy curls looked good on her. How would she react to realizing they’d spent another night at the same apartment? He was afraid things like this would over complicate their partnership, that she’d want to break it off. He’d end up doing crime scene photography for some idiotic senior agent. 

“Oh,” sounded her voice from the mattress.

”Hey,” he said.

”I- really didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

”It’s all right.”

”We need to stop doing this,” she sighed, but he heard a smile in her voice. 

”Breakfast?” He suggested.

”Sure, although I should be the one making it. Or at least buying.”

”That’s nonsense. I’ve got everything we need. Sit down and relax.”

***

It was still Monday morning when they were requested to the director’s office.

”This can’t be good,” Nancy whispered from one side of her mouth.

”Yeah, I’m having the same premonition,” he replied. He sure had done a good job if he’d managed to infuriate his new boss within only a week of starting the job. He wasn’t about to take it too hard, but he knew it was different  for Nancy. She had so much ambition, to become something here, in this place, no matter how inflexible or corrupt things could get. 

“Are you two still on the Richmond murders?” Asked the director, apparently a copy of their case file in hand.

”Yes, Sir, we are. We believe it requires-” attempted Nancy, raising her voice at the end when it became obvious that their boss was going to interrupt her. Anger rose in Jonathan. _Why wasn't she listened to?_

”But they’ve got a suspect in custody, am I right?”

”They do, Sir, but-“

”No buts, Agent Wheeler. Your involvement in the case is no longer needed. It’s time to back off.”

”Sir, if I may-“ started Jonathan, but the director raised his hand to silence him.

”I’ve heard everything I need to know, Agent Byers. Move onto your next case.”

Jonathan heard Nancy muttering profanities beside him as they walked away from the director’s office.

”He’s lost it completely,” she whispered to him.

“This is getting a little shady. Is he stupid or is he hiding something?”

”Let’s find out, shall we?”

"Right after we help Adam."

"I have no idea how we're going to do that now that we no longer have access to him," she hissed back angrily.

"We'll find a way," he answered in a feeble attempt to put faith back into her.


	6. Bugs

 

Dropping her bag on the floor before removing her jacket, Nancy sighed at the sight of her empty apartment. It was just as it had been for the last several years, and yet only recently it had began feeling like the emptiness mattered, like there was a flaw in it.

The nature of her job had changed drastically over the last two weeks. Sure, she’d always been somewhat of an oddball there, but now... It was like the place was actively working against her. They'd been turned into pencil pushers. And at the same time she felt more lonely than ever before. The feeling usually hit her after leaving the office (and Jonathan, who she tried not to dwell on too much outside of work). 

They hadn’t been able to do anything for poor Adam. He had been transferred into the care of family and social services, but as long as he wasn’t off the grid, he was in danger, as was everyone around him. 

Her eyes narrowing, she focused on the bedside lamp in her bedroom. She could swear she hadn’t left it on that morning. _Shit._ What if someone was still there? Nothing seemed to be amiss, but she had to make sure. Picking up the phone off the table, she pressed number two on the speed dial before leaving the receiver on the table. She could hear the line ringing.

_”Hello? Nancy?”_

As it was important not to give up her position, in case someone was still in her apartment, she said nothing, hoping Jonathan would understand.

She yanked her bathroom door open, revealing a whole not of nothing. A few more frantic heartbeats later he spoke again.

 _”I’m on my way,”_ he said, the line going dead.

Nancy stuck to her learned routine of searching an apartment, but her initial examinations revealed little. Nobody was in the apartment, and nothing seemed to be missing. It was a small comfort as she was fully aware that everything she kept in her home had likely been compromised. 

She needed help for what she wanted to do next, and even though it must’ve been less than 15 minutes between her call to Jonathan and the moment he rapped on her door, it felt like an eternity.

He had a hand on his gun when she cracked the door open, but his eyes softened as they met hers. He was relieved, and she knew her eyes mirrored the same feeling. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she admitted, the confession both a spontaneous outlet of her emotions and a way to stop him from saying anything that would make their next search moot.

”I got here as fast as I could. How are things?” He asked, his head swiveling around to scan the place, trying to find damage that wasn’t there.

Pressing a finger on his lips, she flashed him a notepad.

_Nothing stolen. Need to check for listening devices and cameras._

He read the message and nodded before taking the pen from her.

Where do you want me to start?

She pointed him to living room, having decided to go through her bedroom herself. 

Carefully she moved all items on her desk and peered inside and under all pieces of furniture. No matter that she'd figured there would likely be something to find, her breath still caught in her throat when she first spotted a microphone inside the bedside lamp that had revealed the unauthorized visit to her apartment, and then a camera placed inside her wardrobe, pointed toward her bed. Nancy shivered. _They wanted to know if she was sleeping with someone?_

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in this room for another night. Leaving the devices untouched, she scribbled their locations on her notepad and returned to the living room to find Jonathan. He was finished as well, standing beside her couch with his notepad in hand, his expression grim. 

"Found something?" She mouthed, receiving a nod in response. His turned notepad revealed the locations of four devices, one of them a camera. She acknowledged them with a nod before showing him her findings.

"That's a lot," he mouthed.

"How about we go out to dinner?" She suggested out loud, needing to get out of the place.

"Sounds good. Let's go to that Chinese place on H Street."

"We need to sweep your car before we start talking freely," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah. And my apartment."

"That too."

"This is escalating really fast, Nancy."

"But it's still nothing we haven't seen before, right?" She joked.

They found nothing in Jonathan’s car, so they both sank into their seats with deep sighs.

”They were filming _my bed_ , Jonathan,” she hissed.

”At least we caught them early.”

”Yeah, but I... I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep there again. And we can’t get rid of the mics and cameras either.”

He sighed again. “I know. Look, let’s go out and have that dinner for real. Then head to my place to check it for bugs. Then decide what to do next.”

Over dinner, both of them ended up merely picking on their food. Nancy only managed to force down one measly spring roll, and she noted that Jonathan wasn't doing much better, his leg tapping the tiles of the restaurant's floor. The most important question hung above their heads. _What the hell were they going to do?_

Jonathan's apartment was easier to sweep for bugs due to the lack of furniture, but she found a camera in his kitchen, and apparently there were two microphones hidden in the living area and the bedroom. 

The realization hit her like an 18-wheeler. They no longer had a single safe space anywhere. Director Peterson had taken away the support of the FBI, rendering their office unsafe. Their homes were bugged. _There was nowhere to go._

They returned to the car, checking it again before speaking.

"So...," he sighed. "I guess we're not staying here, either."

And then came the waterworks. She was crying. Seriously crying, and all because of her home being bugged. _Get a grip_ , she told herself. It's not like this was even the first time her home had been bugged by their enemies. Her parents had actually _allowed_ that to happen more than ten years ago. But now it was about her personal space, a place she'd picked out herself. A place that was supposed to have nothing to do with her work, no matter how little time she spent there or how lonely she sometimes felt there.

“Come here, Nancy,” Jonathan murmured, and his arms engulfed her, his warmth suddenly all around her. Her first instinct was to fight him, that they were crossing boundaries that should stay untouched, but she hadn't been held in a long time. And possibly never quite like this. His quiet certainty and confidence soothed her, making her wish they could stay in this car for the rest of the night, that no complicating discussions needed to be had.

“I- I can’t let these people drive me out of my own home,” she sobbed. “I’m stronger than that.”

”Yeah, you are, but you’re freaked out. It makes sense. I’d offer to let you stay with me, but as you know, it's not a great option.”

She had no desire to live anywhere they knew to be cameras or microphones, but at least his privacy wasn't being invaded as much as hers.

”But you don’t have a camera in your bedroom," she argued.  "Still, they’ll figure out we’re onto them if I just move out. Unless..." she trailed off, an idea beginning to form in her head. Considering her own confusion about Jonathan, it wasn't the best idea, but at the same time it could solve some of their problems for the time being, give them enough peace to get Adam out of the city and to move forward with their own investigation. Even so, suggesting it made her nervous.

”Unless what?” He asked.

”Unless we make whoever’s listening in think we’re spending time together for... Other reasons," she began, praying he'd get the gist of her idea. Even thinking about it made her cringe inwardly, but beyond that there were other emotions. _Excitement. Anticipation._ Taking a deep breath, she brushed them off. _Unbelievably unprofessional._

Jonathan’s eyes widened.

” _Personal_ reasons?”

She nodded. 

“But wouldn’t that get us fired from work? Or one of us transferred?”

”Yeah if we overdo it and make the FBI think it's really happening, but if we only do it for whoever’s conducting the experiments... They’re not going to go to the bureau with that knowledge, but it might help us get them off our backs at least for a while.”

He still looked hesitant to agree to her suggestion, and she didn't dare to ask why. 

"Look, I know this sounds like a stupid idea, but we've been stuck organizing archived cases for the last two weeks. I don't know about you, but I'm over that."

He sighs. "Me too. And it's probably only a matter of time until Adam disappears. Either we make him disappear or the lab comes for him," he completed.

"Exactly. So now that we know we're being monitored, there has to be a non-work-related excuse for us to spend time together outside the office."

They sat there quiet for several breaths, as Nancy allowed Jonathan to ponder his answer.

"Okay," he finally replied. "As long as we set up some ground rules first."

***

 _Fake dating._ Jonathan guessed that was the best way to call it. They would pretend to be involved in order to be able to continue with their investigation. This was by far the most awkward thing he'd ever done in his life, and not only because of what they would be doing, but with whom. Nancy still fit in his arms so well that it terrified him. He probably shouldn't have pulled her to him so eagerly.

"Ground rules? All right. You go ahead and suggest some," she suggested, looking at him with wide-eyed curiosity. _Did she think this was as ridiculous as he did?_

"I- I guess we only need to show affection when we might be seen by the cameras," he said.

"Well, yeah, but maybe also in public at times. Here's mine: we stay at your place, or somewhere else entirely."

That made sense. 

"Yeah, the bedroom camera would make things awkward." He didn't want to think about the reasons anyone would place a camera directed at her bed. It made him fear for her safety, no matter how capable she was. 

"And no telling anyone about us dating... Or fake dating."

"Deal." 

He had never introduced a woman to his mother, and he wasn’t about to start by lying to her about dating Nancy Wheeler, who his mother had always been rather fond of. It would break her heart to find out that it wasn’t real. As long as they didn’t talk about this to anyone else, he figured he was safe in this regard. 

“Should we try to cover the bugs for a while? I mean, they’ll eventually come back to check in on them, but we could buy some time,” she suggested.

”Sure, we can try, but there’s no way to know if they’ll still be able to hear something, and it’s going to be a one-time thing or they’ll figure out we know about the spying.”

She nodded. 

“Let’s go to your place, it’s easier to cover. Just let me get some stuff from my apartment first.”

”Right. Ugh, I still have one question.” He felt like a 16-year-old for asking this, but he had to know, if only to be mentally prepared.

”Do I- do we kiss?” Heat crept up his neck, making the air in the car feel stifling.

”Oh,” she said at first. It wasn’t really much of an answer, was it?

”I guess we may have to. Especially if we see someone following us, and maybe sometimes in front of the cameras.”

”Got it.” Jonathan was fully aware of his strained voice. This would be beyond weird, and hardly offer help with his attempts at becoming better at being _just colleagues_ with her.

***

A couple of hours later they were back at his place, Nancy now with an overnight bag in tow. Helping her out of her coat, Jonathan casually tossed it on the kitchen counter, the bundle conveniently covering the camera in the lamp on the wall behind it. The mics were still functioning, so they were going to have to make their debut as a fake couple.

"Thanks for dinner," she began, as they'd agreed. She would soon head to the bathroom while he muted the bedroom microphone. That would leave the apartment with no cameras and a debugged bedroom. It had to be enough for the night. "Can you go ahead and warm up the bed for me while I take a quick shower?" She asked, completing her act with a flirty stare at him. His breath hitched. She was _convincing._ If she didn't mean to be, he was overly sensitive to her gestures.

He changed into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, _accidentally_ spilling some water on the phone on his bedside table, taking care of the microphone. The acting was over for the night. 

"Do you mind if I borrow this?" Nancy suddenly asked, appearing at the door, wearing his t-shirt.

"I think it's dirty," he replied. _Wow. Smooth answer there. Was that really the only thing he could think of to say? How about a simple 'No, not at all'?_

Nancy frowned. "Really? It doesn't feel or smell like it. Look, I forgot my pajamas, but I can change into my own shirt-"

"No, no. It's fine," he assured her. Her tiny form nearly drowned in the fabric even though he wasn't the biggest guy in the world. It made her look more approachable than her work clothes. Soft even. He'd never really associated that quality with her, despite their friendship as teenagers.

She placed her gun on the table on her side of the bed, and he mirrored her. It was better to be safe than sorry.

His bed was smaller than hers, and her presence in it made it feel even more narrow. She smelled of his shampoo, prompting him to switch to breathing through his mouth. 

”How long has it been since you came to work for the bureau?” She asked, facing him. Her curiosity took him by surprise, leaving a pleasant warmth behind. And yet he was fully aware that she'd been there much longer than him.

”Two years this November. I was almost fresh out of college when I applied.”

”Fresh out of college? How-“

”I didn’t go to college right after high school. You know money was tight... So I had to put it on hold, despite the scholarship.”

”I’m sorry, Jonathan... I should’ve known. I mean, I read your file, but I only got the redacted version and it didn't reveal much.”

”No, it’s okay. That was a long time ago. _You read my file?_ "

”As if you haven't read mine!" Nancy argued. She was right of course. "So what did you do before you went to college?”

He shrugged. “I took almost any job I could find. I gave most of the money to my mom, but also managed to save up enough to go to college as long as I still kept working while studying.”

Working through college was hardly something  to be ashamed of, but it made him realize how truly different their lives had shaped up to be, right from the very beginning. Even if she’d liked him back then, it wouldn’t have worked out. 

“We grew up under very different circumstances,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you could say that. But I don’t think that makes us too different as people.”

”You don’t?”

”No. I think we... _Complement_ each other," she admitted. Her tone was flippant, but the words held weight. 

"Really?"

"Sure. What are we going to do about Adam next?" Aaand naturally Nancy would change the topic. Well, that was fine by him.

"Well... I called Hopper from a payphone, so I guess we can hope nobody knows about his involvement in this. For now, anyway."

"We need to see Adam, somehow get a message to him about getting away."

"We don't have a lot of time. Let's give Hop another call tomorrow, get him to come here. Then we need to cook up a valid reason to see Adam. Or a distraction..." He was starting to prefer the second option. _A staged fire alarm, maybe?_

"I would prefer one that won't get us fired. Or destroy public property... Or at least not a lot of it."

Covering his mouth with his hand to pretend he was yawning, he suppressed a grin. Sometimes it was painfully obvious that this was really the same Nancy Wheeler he'd gone monster hunting with.

 

 

 


	7. The Escape

It took them another week to devise a plan, mainly because they had limited opportunities to speak freely. The options had become even fewer when they’d found a microphone in Jonathan’s car. She rarely used her own vehicle, but they’d done a sweep on it as well, and come up with a similar device. They’d decided against disabling the mic until it was time to put the plan into action.

According to the info Nancy managed to pull from the Richmond PD, Adam had not been handed over to the care of foster parents. That made things a little easier for them. What they feared the most was that the boy's powers would become apparent, in the worst case scenario someone could be injured or potentially even die. 

When Nancy opened her eyes, she was warm. Unusually so. An arm was thrown around her. Still only half-awake, she struggled to remember the events of the previous evening. Then it all became clear: she was with Jonathan. That did _not_ explain why he was holding onto her in his sleep, however. Her heart beginning to slow down, she resisted the urge to jump out of bed in panic and instead lifted his heavy arm, gently pushing him back a little. If there was anything she knew about him, it was that he was no creep. This had been an accidental reaction, brought on by dreams perhaps. A disconcertingly large part of her was disappointed over the loss of the contact. 

Deciding that the best course of action was to not tell him anything about this, Nancy rose onto her elbows to get a look at the alarm clock on Jonathan's side of the bed. It was only 5:15 AM, so she sighed and leaned back. Another 45 minutes of sleep would do good for her. They had a long day ahead of them.

Yet she only ended up tossing and turning, unable to push the thoughts of the loss of her privacy out of her head. Staying with Jonathan in a bedroom with no camera was _a_ solution, but it couldn't be _the_ solution. She had to figure something out for the long-term, as she'd been staying with Jonathan since finding out about the camera.  _Well, the sooner they caught these bastards, the sooner she could take her home back._

"Morning," he said groggily, sitting up on the bed. His hair was sticking up at the back as he yawned. A fond grin threatened to form on her lips, but the suppressed it, knowing she shouldn't feel this comfortable with a temporary arrangement. It had become almost normal to wake up beside him. Promising herself that she would go home that night and sleep in her own bedroom despite the presence of the camera, she smiled at him.

"Morning. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, though."

"I know." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was no way to talk about their mission until they got out of the apartment, but she placed a hand on his shoulder in encouragement. Sure, the plan had a lot of moving parts, but they were FBI agents. And she would've trusted him even if he wasn't one.

***

They went over the plan on their way to work as they stopped at a coffee shop for fresh brew, but there was another thing she wanted to discuss with him.

"I need to go home tonight, when we're done," she declared, expecting him to argue against her decision.

Jonathan frowned. "I can't really argue with that, Nancy. They're going to start wondering if we know about the surveillance if you suddenly move in with me for good."

"But?"

"But I'm coming with you."

Biting into her lip, she wanted to disagree, but she didn't have a good counter argument.

"... Assuming we're still free as birds by the time we've gotten Adam to Hopper safely," he added. 

Releasing a nervous laugh, she painfully realized he was right. Maybe her desire to even talk about this before executing their plan was her way to pray for survival. _God_ , she didn't want to go to jail.

"Speaking of the surveillance, what do you think will happen if they figure out we're onto them?" She asked, lowering her voice.

The question had been plaguing her mind for days now. They had to assume the worst of course, but was that realistic? After all, as teenagers they had managed to get off with knowledge of both supernatural and illegal activity without being tortured or killed. _Were these people ready and willing to murder two federal agents and prepared for the attention that would accompany the kills?_

”They’re assessing us, to see if we know enough to be a threat to them," he said, shrugging. Nancy took note that his leg was jumping. _A nervous tick._

”And if we are...”

”They will first remove all our resources...”

”And then eliminate us if that doesn’t do the trick.”

” _Try_ , Jonathan. They will _try_ to eliminate us," she replied, wanting to reassure both of them. 

”That should go without saying.”

”As much fun as trying to avoid being murdered is, I think we should stick to our cover story and be very careful with what we say and who we trust.”

”I agree.” Nancy suspected the unease over the intentions of their enemies would linger until this case was solved. She liked to think she had little to lose, but was it truly that simple? _Could she handle it if something happened to the people she loved? Could Jonathan?_

***

Nancy looked in the mirror of the gas station restroom and winced. Red hair did _not_ look good on her. Nevertheless, that hardly mattered. She had a mission to complete.

The ill-fitting tweed suit, complete with a pair of itchy pantyhose made her fidget so much that Jonathan turned to look at her as they walked back to the car.

"What's wrong?" He asked, a wry grin on his lips. She felt like smacking it off, but settled on remembering that he would have his own disguise to don soon enough. 

"Nothing, just uncomfortable in these clothes."

"Well, you do look like a psychiatrist now," he smirked.

"I hope so, or we're in big trouble."

"Point taken."

Jonathan parked the car two blocks from the group home and reached for the bag of groceries he'd got at the gas station. They still had a half an hour to kill before she was due to appear at the group home.

"What did you get?" 

He revealed bananas, juice boxes, peanuts and chocolate. "Not much, I'm afraid," he answered with a sigh. "They didn't have too many options."

She groaned. "We should've just stopped at a drive-through."

"And let more people see me without a disguise and you in that costume? I don’t like going hungry all day either, and I’ll gladly buy you dinner when it’s over, as long as we’re not in jail.”

Grumbling, she accepted a banana, juice and a Mars bar from him.

"You're going to do great, Nance," he said as she struggled to peel the banana with her shaky fingers.

"I don't know why I'm so nervous," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the fruit until Jonathan's hands gently pried it away from her. 

"Because you've never done anything quite like this before? At least not when you're not acting on behalf of the FBI," he murmured. The banana was now peeled, and he handed it back over to her.

"Thanks." 

The quick lunch now contributing to the churning in her gut, she gave him one last smile before slipping out of the car.

"45 minutes," she affirmed.

"45 minutes. I'll be here."

***

The pair of heels Nancy was wearing was worn out, and made squeaking sounds as she strode down the hallway of the 4th floor. The irritating sound only worked to enhance her own nerves. Wordlessly, she went through her cover, approaching the receptionist. Putting on the best professional smile she could, she madd eye contact with the woman behind the desk.

"Good morning," she greeted, recalling the name of the secretary from the papers she'd managed to get her hands on _. Brenda Barnes, age 47. Worked for the social services for the last 25 years._

"Good morning. How may I help you?"

"I was asked here for a psych consult. I'm Dr. Karen Williams."

The receptionist frowned, consulting a list. Nancy's heart rate doubled. _How had they not thought this through?_

"I- I'm sorry, but I can't seem to find your name on this list."

"I'm new, I only started at this job a week ago."

"That might explain it, then. Which one of the kids are you here to see?"

Nancy forced a pensive frown onto her own face. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I don't believe I've been told the name."

"Oh, then you must be here for our Number Boy!"

"Excuse me?"

"We have a young gentleman here who doesn't seem to have been named. Yet, at least."

"That sounds interesting, to say the least."

"He's in the playroom with the other children. Two doors down the hallway and to the right."

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, you have a good day doctor."

Shooting a smile in the receptionist's direction, she adjusted the glasses perched on her nose and headed to the playroom to find Adam. Would he recognize her? She hoped not, as getting him alone was imperative for this mission to succeed. She could remove her glasses and wig and explain everything, as long as they were alone.

The boy was sitting at one of the tables, all by himself. It made sense that he wasn't used to the company of other children, but it still made her heart ache for him. It also made her angry. How could people do this to each other, especially children? 

"Hello," she said, once more pasting on that neutral smile.

Adam eyed her, but no recognition seemed to dawn on the boy's face. 

"I'm Doctor Williams, but you can call me Karen. I'm here to talk to you. Would you please follow me?"

He made no gesture to stand, but instead seemed to squeeze his fists into tight balls. Oh, hell.

"They're saying there's something wrong with me, aren't they?"

"No, sweetie, let's go and have a chat-"

"They're saying I'm crazy, aren't they?" Adam was clearly getting agitated, and now Nancy saw the steel legs of the table begin to bend. _No, no, no. Not here. Not now._

Digging in her pocket, her fingers closed around the Mars bar Jonathan had bought for her as a snack. She'd complained about his choice of lunch replacement, but it just might come in handy now.

"Look, I've got a chocolate bar with me. Let's calm down and go to the other room to have our talk, okay?"

Warily, the boy's eyes moved from hers to the treat he'd probably never tasted before. "Can I eat that if I come with you?"

"Sure, you can have all of it."

To her immense relief, Adam stood up and followed her. The neighboring rooms were all dormitories, but right now they all seemed empty, so she sat him down on one of the bunk beds and handed over the Mars bar.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, unwrapping the chocolate, his eyes shining with greed. _Much better._

Nancy removed her glasses and pulled off her wig. "We've already met, Adam. I'm not a doctor, I'm here to help you get out of here."

The boy's eyes eyes were wide as he regarded her transformation, the Mars bar now forgotten. "What- why- how did you do that?"

She smiled. "All you need to know now is that there will be a fire alarm tonight. Don't worry, it's not real, nothing's going to be on fire. You need to leave this building with the other kids, but as soon as you get to the yard, you need to run. Turn left and run two blocks. There will be a silver car there waiting. There's a man in the car. His name's Jim. Jim Hopper, and he's a policeman. He's going to take you somewhere safe."

"The bad men won't get to me?"

"No, they won't. I promise."

"Why can't you take me there? You and Jonathan?"

"We have other important things to do, and Jim has worked with someone like you before."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone with special abilities. She didn't have a real name either when she came out of the lab."

"Where is she now?"

"She lives in another state. She's got people who love her around her, a family. We can help you have that, too," she assured him, her conscience yelling that she was promising something she couldn't necessarily deliver.

"Okay."

"You want to go? And you remember what to do?"

Adam nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Repeat the instructions to me. Then I'll leave."

"When the fire alarm comes, I go outside and then run. Two blocks until I see a silver car. Jim's waiting."

Satisfied that her work was done, she knelt on the floor to smile at the boy. Despite his considerable powers, he was merely a child, who reminded her of her own sister. "You're being so brave," she told him, unsure if a hug would send Adam into a panic. Her question was answered when he wrapped his thin arms around her neck, burying his head against her shoulder. Exhaling in relief, she hugged him back quickly. A glance at her watch told her that she had ten minutes left to get to Jonathan before he would start wondering if something had gone wrong with the plan.

"Please don't leave me," begged Adam, his voice soft.

"I'm sorry... Jonathan's waiting for me. We still have a lot to do to make sure that you get out of here tonight," she explained. She truly felt for the boy, but she couldn't stay. They would call the police on her within the next hour or so if she lingered.

"Will I see you again?" He asked.

She nodded. "I think you will."

"When?"

"I don't know yet, but you're going to be just fine, I promise."

Clearly unhappy, the boy still released his hold on her, wrapping his fingers around the wooden frame of the nearest bunk bed instead. Within seconds, the wood began to blacken, the acrid smell of a forest fire filling the room. 

"Adam, please stop. Calm down. We can't have this happen now." 

Closing his eyes, tears fell onto his cheeks as he strained to control his emotions. Just as she was about to wrench his hand off the bed herself, he loosened his grip and the smell faded.

"Thank you," she said, waving at him before backing out the door.

Nancy barely dared to breathe until she was out of the building without having been stopped by anyone. Straightening her jacket, she walked to the agreed rendezvous point as calmly as she could. He was where he’d promised to be.

”How did it go?” He asked.

”It’s done... And right at the last possible moment, too, I’d say.”

”What do you mean?”

”The group home has made Adam erratic. He used his powers twice in front of me, once in front of others, too.”

Shaking his head, Jonathan cursed. “So he’s about one mistake away from ending up in a closed ward.”

”Pretty much.”

***

Later, it was Jonathan's turn to change into his disguise. The grey work overalls were loose on him, and it came with an embroidered name tag with "Hank" written on it. It was similar enough to the overalls the real janitor of the group home wore. The black wig already felt suffocating, but he placed it as well as he could, trying to put the discomfort out of his mind. As long as the thing didn't come off in the middle of the mission, it was good enough. 

A disguise-free Nancy was waiting for him in the car, and his new appearance elicited a snort from her.

"How do I look?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Nancy stifled a laugh before she replied. "Like a nerdy janitor should." He was going to take that as a compliment. 

They'd spent some time at the office that afternoon, bent over their assigned paperwork. Any spare time had been used on nervous jokes, which he'd hoped would put his own body at ease, but it hadn't worked very well. Nancy had done a perfect job earlier that day, and he could only hope he wouldn't disappoint her. It would also mean disappointing Adam, who was in desperate need of their help. Hopper was relying on him, too, having driven all the way from Indiana only to pick up the kid. 

"Okay, I should have everything I need. You'll bring the car to the back in 20 minutes?" He confirmed, patting through the pockets of his overalls to check he had lock picks, matches, a couple of lighters, along with a hammer, in case he needed to use force on the alarm.

She nodded "Yeah, and Adam knows which way to run. Is Hopper in position?"

"He'll page me when he is."

"Right. Good luck Jonathan," she said. 

"Thanks, although I wish we didn't have to rely on luck."

"Me too. Be safe."

"You too."

As Jonathan walked down the first floor hallway, he couldn't help but review all the ways this could go wrong. What if he ran into the real janitor? The guy should be out for the night, but who knew. What if someone started asking too many questions, or insisted he open some door? He had no keys and would have to rely on picking the necessary locks. 

So far so good; the hallways were deserted. Once or twice he heard footsteps, but saw nobody. He made his way to the basement as fast as he could, the only mishap taking place when he took a wrong turn. Damn these old buildings. Stopping to check out the floor plan wasn't an option. Sweeping his sleeve off his watch, he checked the time. 8:47. He had thirteen minutes to start the alarm and get out.

The door to the control room was steel, and the lock wasn't as simple as he'd hoped. The air down in the basement was musty and stale, as if there was no ventilation there at all. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, and he reached to wipe it off. He was going to toss his wig out of the car window as soon as he could.

His first attempt at getting inside was unsuccessful, and he cursed. Another look at his watch told him that he had seven minutes left. _Shit. Fuck._ If this failed completely, people were going to die and he would land in prison.

Jonathan’s eyes darted to the ax attached to the wall. It hung right there in its little glass and steel case, meant to be used for emergencies. Well, this was definitely one, and his fingers itched to reach for it. Biting into his lower lip, he decided the ax should only be his last resort.

Taking a deep breath, he tried his luck with the lock again, switching to another pick. The sound of the deadbolt finally giving in was the sweetest he'd ever heard in his life. Locating the main fire alarm control panel wasn't hard, and he figured out how to start the alarm in seconds. _Time to get out._

When the bells started ringing, Jonathan ran, others already piling into the hallways and stairwells as he passed them on his way out. "Get out, it's the fire alarm!" He yelled to everyone he saw, relying on their confusion at the situation to secure his way out without anyone wondering who the heck this unknown janitor was.

He was still panting when he got to the car. "Everything okay?" She asked from the driver's seat.

Trying to catch his breath, he nodded. "Yeah, it's done."

They weren't close enough to see Adam hightail it from the group home, so they had to wait for Hopper's confirmation. It came to a pay phone an hour later, when Hop and Adam were safely out of the city.

"Let's have that dinner I promised you earlier," he suggested, deciding that this had to be one of the best days of his life. 

"Only if we can have pizza," she countered.

"Pizza it is, then." 

 ***

”Here’s to a successful day,” Jonathan said, raising his glass of coke. 

“Cheers.”

”I guess we need to start planning our trip to Hawkins.”

”Yeah, but it’s too soon to go now. We need to wait for the dust to settle after Adam. ”

Jonathan nodded. He had no particular interest in involving his family in any of this nasty business again.

“So... In a few weeks, maybe? Technically I’m off from work then, so going to Hawkins shouldn’t look suspicious," said Nancy.

”And it wouldn’t look suspicious if you took your boyfriend with you.”

”Especially since he’s from the same town anyway... What is it, Jonathan?”

 Rubbing his hand on his face, he exhaled.

 ”I’m wondering if our investigation is about to put our families in danger. I don’t care if they come after me, it’s part of the job description, but my mom... You know how much crap she’s been through. And your mom does even really know anything-“

 ”Which will keep her safe, and your mom’s tough as nails. I remember what she’s like.” His mom had always liked Nancy, although he couldn't be sure of how much of it had been because she'd just been happy to see he had a friend his own age, but it still meant a lot to him that Nancy remembered his mother so fondly.

As ironic as it was, tonight was the absolute highlight of Jonathan's professional life. In a way it was probably pathetic, too, especially for a federal agent. He'd made a difference, and now he got to celebrate it with his partner, who had once again become a friend, despite their original agreement of colleagues-only. Friendship in itself should've been simple enough not to pose an issue, but he hadn't been able to shake his attraction to her. Something was telling him that there was something between them that deserved a chance. Nevertheless, he was going to ignore that. His feelings jeopardized everything, including their jobs, partnership, this case and their friendship. A decade ago, he'd always been somewhat uncertain of how Nancy felt about him, if she thought about him as more than a friend. Back then it had actually mattered, now it didn't. Pursuing anything would be stupid. If it was up to him, she'd never know the truth. 

***

The air in Nancy's empty apartment was stale, likely due to her not being there since the week before. Taking in the couch he'd once slept on, he felt tempted to opt for the same solution tonight, but that would compromise their cover, unless he picked a fake fight with her, which he was too tired to do. So, he reluctantly followed her to the bedroom. She was standing at the door, her arms wrapped around her midsection, and he observed as a shiver went through her. He didn't want to sleep there, either.

"It's all right," he whispered, placing a hand at the small of her back. She nodded, but still looked like she could bolt at any second. Disappearing from his side, she headed for the shower, leaving him stare at the room that offered little privacy. 

The bed felt entirely too narrow for the two of them that night, the awkwardness between them making the air practically vibrate with tension. When Nancy emerged from the shower and padded into the bedroom, Jonathan realized he hadn’t put on a shirt after removing his jeans and regular shirt, being too preoccupied by the thought of having to sleep in this damned bedroom with her. 

Nancy stopped to stare at him, her mouth half open. Okay, maybe he wasn’t making things any better. Flushing, he quickly dove into his duffel bag for a clean shirt.

”Sorry,” he mumbled.

”No worries.” She offered him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

He cursed internally, knowing there was no way to have a genuine private conversation about this in his apartment, or hers for that matter. Going into the car would be too suspicious, and neither one of them was dressed for the outdoors anyway. 

With their hands tied for the time being, they both laid down on the bed, as if nothing was wrong, as if they were truly alone. To his surprise, she was facing him. 

The distance between them disappeared as she scooted closer, and he stopped breathing when her mouth covered his. The contact was brief and tense, but it only served to make him wish it were possible to kiss her properly.

"Good night Jonathan."

"Good night."

Rolling over onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling. There was nothing to look at, aside from the occasional lights brought on by cars driving by, Nancy's curtains letting the remnants of the spotlights in. He probably should've been expecting a fake good night kiss, but the issue hadn't come up over the last few weeks, leaving him hopeful that none of that would be needed. In reality he would apparently have to kiss her, _in bed_ , and somehow do that without thinking about- well, kissing her there for real, for starters.

"I don't even like Mars bars... But now I want one every day for the rest of my life," she mumbled sleepily, and he could hear the smile in her voice. She'd brought him up to speed about the close call with Adam that she'd solved with the chocolate. 

"I'll try to remember that," he chuckled, determined to put one on her desk every day from now on. 

"Thank you."

_How was it possible that there seemed to be no right time for them?_


	8. Cold As Ice

Going home was supposed to be simple, but Jonathan had never involved his family in his work, and he hated to start now. Even if his mother was currently loving being able to have a real kid in the house again. None of them knew what they were really dealing with at this stage. Not even him and Nancy.

Jonathan hardly minded getting out of D.C. Winter had arrived and although it was often much harder in the Midwest, he felt like he could breathe again. It was little more than a mirage, however. Perhaps he no longer had to worry about their supervisor catching them investigating a case that they should've long since forgotten, but it was possible that someone would follow them even to Indiana. That same someone who had installed the cameras and mics into their homes. Therefore there was no letting go of their covers, except that they weren't going to pretend to be a couple in the company of their families.

As long as nobody who might have followed them from D.C. saw either one of them with another romantic partner while they were in Hawkins, they should be in the clear. He certainly had no plans of going out on a date with anyone, and he doubted it was the first thing in Nancy's mind either. She appeared insanely focused even during their drive, going through an entire folder full of old newspaper clippings. They’d spent most of the ride so far in comfortable silence. He’d always liked that about her. If all you had to contribute verbally was bullshit, you were better off staying quiet. 

“So, we’re staying at a motel, right?”  She asked to confirm their plan, speaking for the first time in an hour.

He nodded. “Yeah. We should be about a half an hour from Hawkins. Out of curiosity, does your family even know you’re coming to town?” 

“I told my mom I’d be nearby for work, but they don’t know the work is actually in Hawkins.”

”That’s probably for the best.”

”I’m used to keeping things from my mom.” Although she was trying to sound barely cared, he could hear her voice break. The events surrounding her best friend's death and the disappearance of his brother had caused a rift between her and her parents, who had stayed completely clueless. He couldn't imagine going through all that without his family. 

“Whether you have your family there or not, you won’t be alone," he promised her.

”I know. I’m in good company,” she replied, a smile lighting up her face briefly. The more time they spent together, the more often things between them were like this. _Easy. Gentle_. They could technically be fired any day and the possibility of arrest was realistic as well, but as long as his family wasn’t involved, he felt easy with her. Maybe all you needed was one person who could understand what you were going through. 

They stopped for lunch in Pennsylvania, somewhere close to the Ohio border. The diner was half full, with most people there nursing little more than hot cups of coffee. It was one of those nights that normal, sensible people wanted only to be at home sitting in front of their TV sets, maybe with a blanket and a hot cup of something nearby. However, he wasn't one of them, and neither was his partner. The heating in his car barely functioned and his fingers were still cool from driving without gloves on, but altogether he was in a good mood, the prospect of a hot meal cheering him up. Nancy on the other hand seemed agitated all of a sudden, her eyes darting from customer to customer, a frown forming between her eyes. 

"Jonathan?" She suddenly called out.

"What?"

"There's a man with a hat at your ten o'clock... He was at the Chinese place we went to in D.C. last week, too."

He nodded calmly, hoping his expression wouldn't give out anything. "All right. So we're being followed then, too."

"Sure looks like it. _Kiss me_."

Jonathan blinked.

"Now?"

"Obviously, yes!" She hissed.  "We're supposed to be out on our way to see our families together, _as a couple_. He needs to think that way."

Jonathan squirmed nervously in his seat. They'd kissed for the hidden cameras a few times, but it had been nothing more than dry pecks. The same performance wouldn't fly here, if there was a man looking at every move they made.

Shutting down his stupid overthinking brain, he placed a slightly trembling hand on Nancy's cheek before meeting her lips with his. Her hand was suddenly covering his on her cheek, as if she was surprised by the gesture. His entire body was tense, and she seemed tense as well, her mouth immobile against his. Not that he was an expert on kissing, but this would _not_ look convincing. Nancy must've realized the same thing, because her mouth relaxed, her lips now moving over his.

" _Relax,_ " she murmured.

He did his best, mimicking her movements, trying not to get caught up in the scent of her perfume or the softness of her lips. Making it look too convincing wouldn't be to his advantage either, but he was still unable to stop his spontaneous gasp when she drew his bottom lip into her mouth, lightly sucking on it. He figured if she could go further, so could he. Drawing her mouth open, he explored her lips with his tongue. Now it was her turn to gasp, but she still didn't pull away, instead she opened her mouth wider, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. 

Her hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him away, gasping for breath.

"We can stop now," she said, but she was panting as hard as he was. Her eyes were wide, her surprised gaze boring into his as if she’d never truly laid eyes on him before. Jonathan swallowed, completely aware that about half of the blood in his system was in his face.

Kissing her like that would take him nowhere except possibly a personal hell of his own making. _Do not get caught up._

“Uh, so do you think he bought it?” He asked, trying to get back on stable footing.

”I think so.” Gone was Nancy’s flippant, flirty tone, now replaced by an overly professional one. He wasn’t sure whether an apology of some kind would be the appropriate course of action here, so he kept his mouth shut. It was better to follow Nancy’s lead. It was often hard to read her emotions, but he was rather convinced that she had enjoyed the kiss as much as he had. 

"We should get back on the road," she said, standing up despite the fact that there was still half of her pasta left. He stared at the uneaten food on Nancy's plate, trying to ignore it, but old habits died hard. Growing up, he'd learned not to throw out perfectly decent food. 

"You shouldn't waste food," he muttered.

She stared back at him, and then at the plate before sighing. "You're right. Do you want it? I'm just not that hungry anymore." 

He chose to bring the food along in a take-away container, finishing it on the road as Nancy took the wheel. 

"I'm sorry," she suddenly piped up.

"About what?"

"About the kiss? I- I got carried away."

"Oh. I- I didn't mind."

"Jonathan..."

"I know this is something we don't talk about."

"Because the equation's impossible, so our thoughts on it don't matter."

"If you say so," he sighed.

"Let's focus on the case, okay?"

"All right."

A few hours later they settled into the motel, having got a room with a single queen bed. After what had transpired between them, he couldn't possibly stay cooped up in the room with her for the entire evening, so he drove to see his family, alone.

”Jonathan! Why didn’t you call?” Asked his mom, moving aside to let him into their house. He'd called that place home for so long.

”We just got here, Mom,” he explained as he wrapped his mother into a hug. How he’d missed her. He made a mental note to come home more often.  

“Where is Nancy, then?”

”She’s at the motel, I came for a personal visit tonight.”

His mother’s face softened. “I’ve missed you so much.”

”I missed you too.”

”Let me heat you some leftovers. Hop took Adam out for a walk... He doesn’t like to be cooped up too long.”

”Has he been any trouble?”

”Oh no, not at all. He’s a quiet, sensitive little boy, much like you and Will were at his age.  But...”

”But what?” 

“He’s also troubled, like your brother was after everything... Nightmares, panic attacks... You remember, don’t you?”

”Of course I do,” he sighed. Will hadn’t been the only one with nightmares after everything, but he’d never let his mother know that.

”Let’s talk about you for a while. How’s D.C.?”

”It’s... A world of its own.”

”Do you like living there?”

He shrugged. So far he hadn’t found the city all that inspiring in itself. For him it was all about what the city now represented to him: Nancy. A work he did enjoy, or had enjoyed, until it had all gone to hell. 

“It’s not too bad.”

”Not too bad? Do you go out at all? To meet people?” 

“I work most of the time. So usually it’s just me and Nancy, especially now that we don’t think we can trust anyone.”

His mother wasn’t aware of all the details of the surveillance they were under, and he wasn’t about to worry her any more than he had to.

A knowing smile formed on her lips. “So you and Nancy, huh? How’s that going?”

”We’re just working together, Mom.” He felt seventeen again.

An eye roll told him that she wasn’t buying it. “She was your only friend aside from your brother when you were in high school, and I always knew you thought of her as more than a friend. I already know she’s special.”

”Mom, seriously-“

”I get that, you’re 27 years old and don’t want to discuss your love life with your mother. I’ll back off, but I think it’s about time you have someone to rely on, aside from us.”

"So, uh, how's El?"

She smiled. "Getting accustomed to living with a roommate of her own age. So far she and Max seem to be doing well."

Jonathan beamed back at her. A somewhat normal life. That was what he wanted Adam to have in the future, too.

"Mike's driving them all home this weekend, I'm sure they'd all love to see you."

"I'm not sure if we'll still be here at that point, Mom."

His mother lit up a cigarette, sighing. "Right, I know you two have important work to do. Just be careful, all right?"

He left soon after finishing the leftovers, and still Hopper and Adam hadn’t returned. The motel room was dark when he got back and Nancy appeared to be asleep. 

"Jonathan?" She suddenly called out to him groggily.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just wanted to see my mom alone."

"Did you see Adam?"

"No, he was out with Hopper. But I think he's doing all right, all things considered."

"That's good. Were you followed?"

Shaking his head, he pulled his sweater over his head. "No, didn't see anyone. There isn't enough traffic here this time of day to tail anyone successfully."

"That's true," she replied, yawning. 

"You still think they followed us all the way here?"

"I don't think they're far, but I think we're safe for the time being."

He decided to forego shower for the night, so he simply pulled the covers back and got in on the other side of the bed. The realization that they were truly alone for now hit him. They didn't have to pretend inside the hotel room; they could discuss anything. His throat dry, he considered it. 

_Do you have feelings for me? Hypothetically, if it were possible, could we be together?_

Sighing, he reached a verdict: it was better not to bring it up. She was right, they should focus on the case. He could confront her when they'd caught the murderer and when hostile forces were no longer tailing them.

***

Nancy was up first in the morning. Jonathan was still snoring peacefully beside her when she stretched her arms above her head, feeling as lazy as he looked. This was no vacation, but she hadn't slept this well after finding out her apartment was bugged. Taking time to observe Jonathan, she wondered about his visit to his mother the night before. Should she see her mom, too? She wasn't around often, and she didn't really miss Hawkins, but her mom and her siblings were here, although Mike was currently in grad school. 

He'd seemed agitated and distracted before he left. Had that kiss at the diner affected him that much? She was hardly immune to him and the pull between them, but maybe it was even harder for him. His lips had been so soft on hers, and he’d kissed her like he meant it. Like she was the most desirable woman on the planet. She wanted him to make her feel like that again, and more. And she wanted to watch him come undone at her touch.

Closing her eyes, she groaned internally. Why did this have to be so difficult? Sure, she hadn’t had physical intimacy with anyone in a long time, but this wasn’t just about it. If she wanted sex, she could go to a bar and pick up a random guy, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted Jonathan, with his kind brown eyes and sharp mind, who she could always count on. Whose presence was a constant source of comfort and safety in her now turbulent life. 

Nevertheless, no matter how badly her mind and body wanted him, it couldn’t happen. They'd stop this ridiculous fake relationship as soon as possible, and she could go back to living her normal life. They could go back to being FBI agents who followed the rules. _And whose work would still be discredited and ridiculed._ Exhaling, she felt her blood pressure rise. When you worded it like that, her job didn't seem that important anymore, or at the very least not as important as a significant relationship.

"What time is it?" Asked Jonathan, his eyes flying open.

"Just past seven."

"You want to get breakfast? I can't make anything here, so we'll have to make do with whatever they're serving here, or find a diner to eat at."

"As long as I can get a cup of coffee and some toast, I'll be fine."

"I see I still haven't managed to convert you into a breakfast person." 

Nancy rolled her eyes, laughing. "Guess you'll have to keep trying."

They spent the day at the Hawkins Public Library, looking for anything in the local papers that could be a sign of experiments still being conducted, or of the Tree Monster, or murders that would match the ones they were investigating. The results were scant, with only one publicized murder that could be seemed suspicious. Four years ago, in a rural area about halfway between Hawkins and Indianapolis. 

"Someone could be making sure things stay under the radar here," mentioned Jonathan.

Nancy nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too. You know... If Adam's lived in the lab all his life, it means that nothing any one of us in Hawkins ever did managed to stop them."

"I know."

It was a depressing thought that she decided not to dwell on for the time being. 

"Can we go to your house now?"

After glancing at his watch, Jonathan stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Yeah, everyone should be there by now. Let's go."

***

The house inhabited by Joyce Byers, Chief Hopper and now Adam was the same one Jonathan and his brother had spent their entire childhoods at, and where she’d once set up a trap for a monster with him. There were no signs of that left now, aside from the faded scars on their palms. Nancy couldn’t help thinking that if any house knew monsters, it was this one.

They were all gathered around the kitchen table, where Mrs. Byers and Hopper had insisted they tell them everything. Adam on the other hand seemed distracted, as if listening for sounds that weren’t there.

“So in a nutshell, you’re on a wild goose chase, breaking the law and risking arrest?” Asked Hopper.

Jonathan raised a brow at him. “Is that a problem?” 

Hopper’s wry grin was revealing. “No, just wanted to make sure.”

”I’m trying very hard not to say anything,” voiced Mrs. Byers, lighting up a cigarette. If Jonathan had mannerisms that revealed his nervousness, so did his mother. Hers was smoking. 

Placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder, Jonathan smiled at her. “I can take care of myself.”

“And I’ve heard he’s got a pretty competent partner,” She interjected, feeling the need to pacify Mrs. Byers’s nerves. That woman has gone through way too many awful things. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Jonathan if she could help it. The memory of him lifeless after the monster’s attack in Virginia invaded her mind again. _Never again. It was not going to happen again._

Mrs. Byers beamed at Nancy. “That must be true then.”

”Adam?” Called out Jonathan, directing his attention to the boy now.

There was no reply. Although the kid was still physically sitting right next to them, his mind was obviously elsewhere, eyes staring ahead into empty space. 

Chief Hopper shook the boy. “Kiddo?”

Adam was breathing hard, his pulse racing. Afraid he would lose consciousness and hurt himself hitting the table or the floor, Nancy moved him to lie down.

”What’s wrong with him?” Asked Mrs. Byers.

”I have no idea,” Nancy admitted. 

"Is he having a seizure?" Asked Jonathan.

"I- I'm not sure," she said. Adam was still unresponsive.

"Look! He's coming around," marked Hopper. He was right. The boy's breathing was evening out, his eyelids fluttering.

"Adam? Can you hear me? It's Nancy."

Slowly, his eyes opened. "It's here," he said, eyes wide and terrified.

"The monster?" She asked.

The boy nodded.

"All right. You stay here and go to bed, while Jonathan and I go out and look for it. Can you- do you know exactly where it is? Or that it's just somewhere in the area?"

Adam looked out towards the back of the house. "It's somewhere that way," he said.

As soon as they were out of the house, Jonathan tugged on her arm, stopping her.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I- I feel it too, Nance. It's definitely around. It's like this... Feeling that someone's walking over my grave." Nancy sensed the fear in his voice, which caused her to shiver in response. The cause for his nightmares had returned, and they had no idea if it was after him, but they at least had to consider the possibility. She shivered, and it wasn't only due to the freezing air.

Their breaths turned into steam as they stared into the dark woods, but there was nothing to be seen or heard. 

"Come on," she said, wrapping a hand around Jonathan's arm to pull him towards the car.

 ***

"You think it's this way?" Nancy asked, turning to look at Jonathan. A muscle in his jaw was twitching as he swallowed hard.

"I do. I can feel it. And Adam says it's here."  Digging out her weapon, she made sure she had a full clip. It was something she tended to do every time she was nervous about a job, even if she already knew for sure that she had a fresh clip. It was stupid, compulsive behavior that she was trying to drop.

"Right. Let's not leave the car on the side of the road, though."

"I'm going to park close to the lake, there should be space there this time of year."

Nancy grinned to herself briefly. As cheesy as it was, that was exactly the same spot where they'd kissed nearly a decade before. A famous spot for teenagers to make out.

The car came into a stop and Jonathan got out, not waiting for her to catch up.

”Hold on!” She yelled as she saw that he’d already made it to the trees, only his flashlight revealing his location.

”I’ll take the woods, you take the shore. The lake’s frozen, it could try to cross it.” 

Jonathan was staying on solid ground, but Nancy decided to venture out on the ice. Yes, it exposed her, but at the same time it might offer a better vantage point, and there were no trees or bushes for anything or anyone to hide into. 

Stepping as carefully as she could, she advanced on the lake. The ice cover crackled slightly under her feet, making her heart race. _It’s not going to break_ , she assured herself. 

The only sound aside from the ice was the howling of an owl somewhere among the trees. No monster to be seen, no baddies. Nancy pointed her flashlight into the trees ahead once more, seeing nothing, and she was just about to holler at Jonathan that they should leave when it happened. The ice broke and she landed into the freezing water.

”Nancy!” The beam of Jonathan’s flashlight reached her,  but it did little to calm her down. He was going to fall in, too, if he came too close.

Kicking her shoes off to get rid of the excess weight, she desperately tried to hold onto he edge of the ice, but it kept breaking apart under her fingers. 

“Don’t come too close!” She yelled at him.

”Hold on, I’ll get you out of there, Nance. It’s okay. Try to stay calm,” he replied, crawling towards her on what they now knew to be thin ice.

“No,” she panted, convinced the ice would fail under his weight at any moment. She was the lighter one of them and it had already broken by her body weight.

”Everything’s going to be all right.” His voice was soothing and unhurried, despite their urgent predicament, and she wanted nothing but to believe in what he was telling her., but her strength was waning, the cold seeping into her bones. "Grab onto the belt, Nancy! I'll pull you out," he promised. The brown leather was right there in front of her, nearly at reach. By now her fingers were numb, and it turned out to be too much for her to reach out and hold onto the belt.

"Sorry," she muttered as her hands swiped air.

"Try again, you'll get it."

Nancy grunted, gathering up all the strength she had left. Teeth chattering, she reached out again, this time her fingers closing around the strip of leather. 

"Yes!" Jonathan exclaimed, pulling her carefully towards safety.

"Slo-slowly," she advised, praying the ice would hold.

After a time that must’ve been only a few seconds but felt like a minute to her, Jonathan’s fingers closed around her arm.

”Let’s get you off the ice now, Nance,” he muttered.

”Careful.”

She wouldn’t have chosen to be dragged back to solid ground, but there was no other way. It was cold, _so cold._

”Nance? Are you awake? You need to stay awake.”

”Mmmmhh.”

”I’ll carry you now.”

”Okay.”

She found herself unable to hold onto Jonathan with her icy arms, but he picked her up nonetheless. It wouldn’t be so bad if she let the darkness overtake her here, would it? She was safe, after all. _Safe with Jonathan._

“Nancy?!”

”Stop yelling,” she mumbled weakly.

”You saved my life in that Virginia forest, and I’m saving yours now. _Don’t go to sleep_.”

He was probably taking her to the hospital.

“Don’t- don’t-,” she stammered.

”Don’t what? We’re right at the car now, Nance. I’ll drive straight to the hospital.”

”Don’t call my family,” she exhaled.

She felt herself being lowered to the seat before he reached for her coat, still refusing to answer her plea.

”I’ll get the heat running in a minute, but I need to take some of these wet clothes off.”

”Do-do what you have to.” Her modesty hardly mattered in a life-or-death situation.

He helped her out of the jacket, before she heard his frustrated grunt.

”I’ll help you out of your sweater now. Then I’ll give you a blanket.”

Nancy was too cold to feel much, but she sensed the cool air of the car on her bare skin. 

“Here’s my coat for now, getting you the blanket now.”

She tried to stay awake, she really did, but the warmth of the blanket, followed by the heating inside the car lulled her into sleep. Jonathan shook her again when they got to the emergency room, but she barely registered the gurney being brought out for her and the nurses and doctors swarming her. Her partner disappeared somewhere behind all those people in scrubs and white coats, but she spotted his brown winter boots behind the legs of the medical staff. 

"Please look at me, Miss Wheeler," commanded a female doctor, pointing a light into her eyes. She blinked at the brightness.

"Her temperature's 94.2." She couldn't even see which one of the nurses present was speaking.

"Is she going to be okay?" Asked Jonathan.

"Would you please step outside, Sir? We need to get some warm fluids into her."

"I'm her partner. We're FBI."

"Still, please step outside. You can see her when we've settled her in."

She wished they weren't making him leave. "No," she tried to say.

"You'll be back on your feet soon enough, Miss Wheeler. Stay calm, we've got this."

Nancy sighed, watching as a nurse pierced her skin with a needle to set up the IV line. _God_ , she hated needles. 

***

They wheeled her into a room with three other beds, all but one of them empty now. She was comfortable now, the warm liquid in her veins warming her from the inside. She was supposed to stay for the night, but the only had a couple of days to investigate in Hawkins. She wouldn't get discharged until noon the next day if she stayed.

“You want me to send your partner in?” Asked the nurse while pulling the curtains closed around her bed. 

“Yes, please.”

Jonathan parted the curtains of her cubicle a couple of minutes later.

”Hey. How are you?”

”Not as cold as before.”

”Good. You scared me there for a second when you stopped answering me in the car.”

”Kind of like you scared me back in Virginia,” she joked.

He chuckled back at her. 

“I guess that means we’re even.”

”We we’re both being stupid and almost got killed because of it, so yeah, that’s a fair assessment.”

”Why didn’t you want me to call your mom?”

”I... I don’t want them involved in this at all.”

”Even if something happened to you?”

Pursing her lips, she remained silent. "Nancy..."

"Mike's automatically somewhat involved since El is, too, but there's no need to go any further than that. If something happens to me, Mike will... He'll figure out what to do, what to tell my parents."

Jonathan shook his head, but wisely said nothing. "Did they say when you'd be able to leave?" 

"They want to keep me here for the night, but I'm not staying. We've only got a couple of days before we have to head back, and I'm not wasting time lying here. I'm fine, honestly."

"Well, as long as you're not leaving on your own."

"I already told them my partner would look after me."

"If that's what you told them, you'll actually have to let me do it, Nancy."

She rolled her eyes at him with a laugh, while he assured her that he was 100% serious.

***

It turned out that Jonathan was truly serious about looking after her. At the motel, he settled her into their bed, wrapping her into just about every single duvet, blanket and sheet they had in the room. Nancy felt like her blood would probably begin to literally boil at some point, but she accepted his antics. She was hoping taking care of her would take his mind off of the anxiety he'd obviously been feeling earlier that night. 

"Do you need more blankets?" He asked.

"No, I'm good. Better than good, actually. You can turn in, too. I'm fine."

The tense set of his shoulders revealed that her strategy to distract him hadn't been successful. "Jonathan? Are _you_ all right? This is about the monster, right?"

"I'm trying not to let it get to me," he answered softly, closing his eyes. "But I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight. There's- there's something I didn't tell you..."

"What is it?"

"Earlier tonight, when we were walking in the woods, I saw something... I couldn't tell what it was for sure, but I _felt_ it, Nancy. The thing that tried to kill me was there, just like Adam said it would be. I know it was there, and then you fell through the ice-"

"Wait," she held up a hand. "What was it doing?"

"It was moving away from us... I don't know if it even realized we were there, or maybe it had set its sights on another victim."

"You think there's going to be another murder, and you didn't think this was worth telling me?"

"I don't _know_ if there's going to be another murder! All I knew at that point was that you were about to die!"

She would've died without him, but he'd allowed the monster to escape, and someone might die because of that. There was also the implication of what his instant decision to save her rather than chase the monster meant in itself. That he had feelings for her. 

"What would you have done if it had been me in the freezing water?" He asked.

The truth was that she would've chosen him, too. It made her a bad agent, and a selfish person, but it was true. She'd tried so hard to be more selfless after Barb's death, and she liked to think she'd fulfilled that promise pretty well. Until now. Until shit had hit the fan with Jonathan. 

It was nearing midnight by now, and she should've been exhausted, but she felt more alert than waking up from a full night's sleep. Her heart raced, knowing Jonathan was still waiting for her answer. Taking a seat on the mattress, he reached out for her hand.

"Are you going to give me an answer?"

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, knowing her words would inevitably change the nature of their relationship. "I would've done the same thing," she confessed.

She didn't hear him moving closer, but suddenly his lips brushed against hers.

 


	9. The Dead Farmer

Instead of pushing him away as she should've done, Nancy's fingers ended up twisted in the fabric of his shirt. This kiss was all real, all them, nothing resembling the uncomfortable kisses they'd share during their fake relationship. Jonathan was as good a kisser as she’d remembered.

Falling onto her back, she pulled him with her to rest on top of her, her legs parting to let him rest between them. One of his hands dove under the t-shirt she had worn to bed, making its way up her side before cupping a breast. Nancy moaned, pushing him off of her temporarily to remove the shirt entirely. 

They sat on the bed facing one another, her chest exposed to his hungry gaze. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone, but he didn’t make her nervous, at least not in the way someone new usually would have. He was both familiar and new at the same time. 

”Come here,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her to bring her closer. Their lips met again and she reached to pull his shirt off before opening the belt on his jeans. The button on them popped open easily, and she pulled the zipper down all the way. 

"We should stop," she sighed with a groan. 

"You're right, I'm sorry," he replied, clearing his throat. "I got carried away," he finished, echoing her words from merely a couple of days ago, trying to move away from her, but she grasped onto his belt. 

"I didn't say I _wanted_ to stop," she countered.

Placing a finger under her chin, he forced her eyes to meet his.

She'd nearly died earlier that night, and somehow that made her believe that she shouldn't pass on the chance to be with him, no matter where it got her in the end. He was terrified and needed a distraction, and she was more than willing to take on the challenge.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," she confessed.

"Me too. Are you sure?"

Nancy nodded. 

That was when they stopped talking. The rest of his clothes were soon shed on the floor, and  her own panties were the last to go. 

His fingers found her wet center, slowly caressing the opening before moving to her clit, while his lips closed around a nipple. Nancy closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations for a while. But she needed more than this, so she pushed him off of her and onto his back before straddling him. 

Jonathan released a sharp gasp when she took him in her hand. She wanted him inside of her, but couldn’t resist teasing him before that, so she moved down to sit on his legs and took him in her mouth.

”Nancy, oh God,” he moaned.

It had been so long since she’d last done anything like this, but God, she loved the feeling of control over him. Jonathan was beautiful as he lay on his back underneath her, totally at her mercy, his brown eyes hooded, every part of his body completely focused on what she was doing to him. She wouldn't have minded finishing him off right then and there, but he had other plans and gently pushed her off of him.

“I’m going to go insane if I don’t get inside of you right now,” he groaned, flipping her onto her back once more and lifting one of her legs to make more room for him.

“Then do it,” she challenged. 

“This is gonna change everything, Nancy.”

”I know. It’s okay.”

The kiss he pulled her into was loving, but changed when he penetrated her, his mouth never leaving hers. Her nails dug into his arms  while her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in deeper. His thrusts were so slow it was almost painful. 

“More,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his.

”I want to make this last,” he argued into her ear before sinking his teeth into the skin of her neck.

She understood the sentiment perfectly. It was a moment she too wished could've lasted forever. The room was world with nobody else in in but them, without monsters and responsibilities.

Someone might have found Jonathan scrawny, but to her, he emanated strength. She'd always felt safe with him, but now, with him so close, the feeling was more potent. It was all right, she could let go... And so she did, her hands finding his buttocks, squeezing hard as she let her orgasm was over her. The moans he released at the apparent feeling of her contracting around him made Nancy grin. She was barely coming down from her high, and she already couldn't wait to do this again. She was still tingly all over. _Happy. Euphoric._

Totally spent, Jonathan threw himself on his back next to her, and she followed to be able to nestle comfortably against his side.

"I-" He stared, but then stopped himself, chuckling. "I don't even know what to say. That was- something else. Amazing."

"Hmmm," she agreed, smiling against his chest. His heart was still racing.

"Are we really going to do this?" He asked softly.

"I think we already did, Jonathan."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. I don't know what we're going to do... But I really do want to be with you."

"Isn't that enough then?" He asked.

Nancy closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. She really wished it were that easy, but what she'd said was true. She did want to be with him.

"Can we figure all this out after the case is over?" She finally answered.

He murmured something that she couldn't make out. "What did you say?"

"Nothing important. You should get some sleep."

Despite Jonathan's earlier command for her to sleep, he was the one who woke her up in the middle of the night, tenderly kissing her until she pulled him on top of her, arching her body against his. "Do you mind?" He asked, making her laugh.

"You're an FBI agent, figure it out," She moaned back, rolling him onto his back.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he returned breathlessly.

***

"What if I said that I didn't really care if I worked for the FBI anymore?" Asked Jonathan, his head half-buried in her hair as they lay on the bed together, her fingers running up and down his side while he caressed her back.

"What? You want to resign?" She asked, lifting her head from his chest. He couldn’t mean that. 

"I never really enjoyed my work here until I became your partner. It pays the bills, which is obviously really important too, but otherwise? It’s not what I want. Now that we're not even exactly working for the bureau, why should I put my faith in the institution? Where were they when my brother went missing? Where were they when your friend was killed?"

Her first instinct was to lash out at him. _How dare he of all people use Barb’s death as a reason to quit?_

"Because you're a good agent, Jonathan, and the FBI _needs_ good agents! You can't be serious." Genuinely upset, she sat up. He had a point, but she wasn’t ready to give up on the FBI, not like he seemed to be, anyway. She’d worked for her big break for _so_ long and _so_ hard. Countless days and nights spent doing nothing but menial paper work, tolerating the snickers of the agents who thought she was a total kook. Not to mention that the resources the bureau offered were incomparable if she wanted to keep looking into crimes of the supernatural kind.

But was she willing to give up a potential relationship? Love was fickle, and with Jonathan she was terrified. Terrified that maybe her feelings were remnants of her teenage self who had never had the opportunity to try out what it would be like to be with him. Terrified that she’d hurt him, or that he’d hurt her. Terrified that she’d be left more alone than ever once he was gone. 

"Watch me," he grunted back, letting go of her before turning off the light on the bedside table.

A heavy silence overtook the room, hanging between them. The timeout was good for her thoughts, letting her explore Jonathan's words from a different point of view. There had been something... Strange about the whole conversation. Something was clearly bothering him. It was in her nature to get to the bottom of all things as quickly as possible, but she could wait until the morning, couldn't she? They'd had an amazing night together, and she didn't want to ruin it by interrogating a man who was introverted even under the best of circumstances.

"What is it that you want to do then?" She asked. 

"I don't know, not for sure. I wouldn't mind something combining photography and forensics. Unless they fire me for this illegitimate investigation, I need to figure that out before I do anything.”

"What about dealing with monsters?"

"I guess I could do that. Wouldn't be the first time," he joked.

"Or the second."

"Or the second."

Feeling him shift on the mattress, she felt for his hand in the dark, finding it surprisingly close to her own. Afraid she was crossing another line especially now that he was mad at her, she didn’t take it, but merely touched it to let him know she was close by. Minutes ticked by, and finally he released a resigned sigh before entwining his fingers with hers. 

She didn’t want him to let him go, but maybe their priorities were too different. He didn’t know what it had been like for her for the last few years. Let’s face it, the assholes of the FBI weren’t worthy of her efforts, but at the same time, the victims of these crimes deserved justice. Their family and friends deserved explanations. 

At 6:20 AM the phone on Jonathan's bedside table rang, leaving Nancy to sit up groggily as he answered the call.

"Hello? Where? Okay. We'll be there in a half an hour."

"What's up?" She asked, a yawn escaping her mouth.

"That was Hopper. There's been a murder... And he's thinking it's not by a human culprit.”

 _Shit._ This was exactly what they'd been afraid of.

"What are we waiting for?" She asked, throwing the covers off.

"We should've caught the monster last night," she said as they climbed into the car mere minutes later.

"And how were we supposed to do that after you nearly drowned?" He pointed out.

Biting her lip, Nancy sighed. She was actually more angry with herself than with anyone or anything else. She’d be dead without Jonathan, and she’d made the stupid decision to try to spot the monster from the ice.

”I know,” she replied, her voice softening. “I’m just-“

”Frustrated and blaming yourself, just like you did when Barbara died,” he completed.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, something like that.”

”We’ll catch this thing, Nance," he assured her, reaching for her hand.

***

”We’re FBI, Chief Hopper called us. What have we got here?” Asked Jonathan, directing his words at the nearest police officer as they arrived at the scene of the newest murder. The frozen yard of a farmhouse must’ve looked beyond dead until this morning. Now there were uniformed policemen all over the place, swarming the shed and the barn.

”One body. Harry Jefferson, fifty-four years old, owns the farm. The body’s behind the barn,” replied the officer, pointing at the red building.

They found Hopper standing over the body, removing the sheet covering it.

Nancy covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve as she stared down at the newest victim. The sight was simply gruesome, with the man’s internal organs either removed or squished. Reaching out with a rubber-glove-covered hand, she looked at the man’s pancreas. It was as if the organ had exploded. 

“Are you getting all this with the camera?” She asked, turning to Jonathan.

He nodded.

”Yeah. I mean, as much as it’s possible to get this kind of brutality on camera in the first place.”

He was right. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she whispered.

”Me neither. But if it’s any consolation, I think he died like the others and was only disemboweled post-mortem.”

”I hope you’re right. Did he have a family?” The telltale identical branch markings were present in this victim just like in the others.

"No kids, wife's been dead for a couple of years," replied Hopper.

”Why was he taken apart like this?” Wondered Jonathan, his voice quiet.

”Not something you see every day even if you’re with the feds, right?” Asked Hopper, coming to stand behind them.

”No. Do you have any leads? Evidence? Witnesses?” She prompted, the body making her uneasy. If this was their monster killer, it’s desire to kill seemed to be on the rise, as if it was escalating as it would in a human serial killer. The thought was insane, but what about all this wasn’t?

Jonathan’s stepfather lit up a cigarette, shooting them a meaningful glare.

”I’ll show you something at the car,” he replied. 

They got inside the patrol car, and as Nancy had guessed, it turned out that there was nothing to see.

”What is it?” Asked Jonathan.

”When Joyce went to check in on Adam last night, he wasn’t there.”

Jonathan frowned. ”What do you mean he wasn’t there?” 

“I mean exactly what I said. The kid was gone, and the window had been left open.”

”Where is he now? Did you find him?” She asked.

”He came back at the crack of dawn, his feet and hands almost frozen solid.”

She looked at Jonathan, who looked as confused as she felt.

”So, what I’m wondering here is if I’m harboring a murderer,” continued Hopper.

Jonathan shook his head incredulously. “Hell no. There’s no way he did it.”

”And you know this how? I’m a cop, I look at evidence, and I’ve got a hell of a lot more experience than either one of you.”

Nancy scoffed. “ _God_ , how about you stop patronizing us? We’ve seen the monster, you haven’t.”

”It tried to kill me, and I can assure you that it definitely wasn’t Adam,” hissed Jonathan through gritted teeth.

”How do you know? That’s all I’m asking.”

”We can take Adam elsewhere if you don’t want to keep him,” suggested Jonathan. 

“Your mother would kill me if I threw the kid out.”

”Good,” she completed, smiling despite the situation as she heard Jonathan chuckle.

”So the kid stays. But if you want my help with this, you need to start providing some evidence.”

***

Every now and then Jonathan removed his eyes from the road to glance at Nancy beside him. Another man was dead, and despite the rational part of him knowing there was nothing they could've done to prevent it, he wondered if this murder would make Nancy retreat again. He really hoped it wouldn't, but if Barbara Holland's death all those years ago still affected her, why wouldn't this? She'd been so quiet since the morning, too. 

As wrong of a time as this was to be thinking about their relationship, he found the alternative even worse. Last night had told him what he'd been afraid of confirming: he was connected to the monster, and so was Adam. What did that mean? Had they both been infected someway? Would they become a danger to the people around them? Should he isolate himself? If Adam had run off in the middle of the night and perhaps didn't even remember where he'd ended up, could the same happen to him? What if Hopper was right after all and Adam was responsible for the murder? Would he become a murderer, too?

This was something he should bring up with Nancy, but she'd probably refuse to even consider the option that he could eventually be a danger to her. He made a mental note to pick up a notebook from the bookstore to leave for her. Just as an insirance policy, in case the worst happened. He needed to stay calm and methodical and record all possible symptoms, strange feelings and details he felt could be connected to the case. 

"Do you mind if we stop at the bookstore?" He asked.

"No, of course not. What do you need from the bookstore, though?" She asked in return, her eyes narrowing. _Why did he have to be such a piss poor liar?_

"I need a notebook for case notes."

"You can share mine."

"No, I need one for personal use."

"Is there something I should know?"

He sighed in defeat. "I'll tell you everything, just... Not now. I need time."

"Does it have something to do with the case?"

"Maybe, I don't know yet."

"We're partners, so just spill it."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Nancy... It's that I don't know if _you_ can trust _me_."

"You're not making any sense."

"What if Hopper's right about Adam?" 

"He's not, and even if he was, what does that have to do with me maybe not being able to trust you?"

"What if the monster's infected him? And me?"

"Stop the car."

"Fine," he replied, pulling to the side of the road.

Opening her seat belt, Nancy lunged at him, taking his face between her hands. " _No._ I know there's a connection between you and this monster, but you're not going to murder anyone. You'll be fine. Do you understand me, Jonathan?" Her voice was desperate, but he nodded regardless. He wanted to believe her more than anything.

"Good," she said, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Jonathan swore that if he truly survived this, he'd quit. That was why he'd originally taken up the subject with Nancy the night before. He wanted to indulge in the fantasy that everything would really turn out to be all right and that he'd be free to find another job and maybe build a life with the brave woman in his arms. Well, assuming she still wanted him after they were done with this case.

"We're in this together, right?" She whispered softly, relinquishing her hold on him enough to face him again.

He nodded. "Right," he answered, although there was no way he would let her be in danger because of him if it came to it. Wincing, he realized this had to be exactly why them dating each other was such a terrible idea. Still, her teary but fierce blue eyes tugged at his heartstrings and he leaned in to kiss her. Nancy pressed herself closer, practically scrambling into his lap as his palms settled on her buttocks, grinding her into his groin. He didn't want to waste a single minute of the ones he still had left with her.

Reaching up, he removed the band keeping her hair gathered in a ponytail. The wavy locks came down, spreading around them like a curtain. Inhaling deeply, Jonathan closed his eyes. How in the hell this could even be happening was still kind of beyond him, but he loved it. 

The button in her jeans popped open easily under his fingers, and he pushed the zipper down. She leaned back in his lap to give him more space as he reached into her panties. What he really wanted was to bury his head between her legs and make her cry out his name over and over, there was no time or space to do it there, so it would have to wait. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make her come now.

She helped him with the zipper of her winter jacket as he brushed it off her shoulders, followed by her sweater and top. 

Nancy’s eyes darted to the road beside them, concern filling her gaze.

“There are only farmhouses around here, Nance. And the police shouldn’t drive to town this way either.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He didn’t want to get caught by Hopper of any of his subordinates more than she did. 

“I’ve never done this in public,” she admitted with a giggle, her fingers threading through his hair.

He chuckled in response. “Me neither.”

His hands found the clasp of her bra behind her back and released it. 

Nancy stretched to allow him access to her nipples, and he gladly obliged. The cool air in the car made goosebumps appear on her skin, and nipples perk up. Lifting his mouth off from one of them to move onto the other, he looked up at her beautiful face. Her eyes were on his, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. As he had last night, he again wondered if telling her how beautiful she was would be too much for her to hear.

Rubbing at her clit, he pulled her close enough to claim her neck. She was trembling in a way that told him she was getting close. Now all he had to do was push her.

“I want to taste you later properly,” he spoke into her ear, feeling his own face grow hot. He had no idea how to talk dirty, but it did the trick for Nancy.

She whimpered, and just as she began to spasm, he pushed the two fingers inside of her, imagining it was his cock instead. 

Afterward, she lay limp in his arms, her bare chest against his clothed one. 

“Hmmmm... I liked that,” she whispered, dropping a kiss on his neck.

“I liked doing it.”

“Do you need me to do something to ease this?” She asked, palming his election through the fabric of his jeans. Jonathan groaned.

“Later. I want it, but later.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“Suit yourself then.”

“Hey, hold on. You’re amazing, you know that, right?” 

“You can tell me that more often,” she quipped with a grin.

He kissed her again before resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“I know. It’s all going to be okay, like I already said. We’ll figure this out, Jonathan.” Her contented smile was almost enough to make him believe it. 

***

"Do you have a problem with Hopper? Not just when you're scared he's right about something, but when it comes to things in general," Asked Nancy, reaching over to steal a french fry off his plate at the diner they were seated in for lunch. "I mean, things have seemed a little tense between the two of you since we got here," she continued.

There really wasn't hiding much if anything from Nancy, was there? Jonathan didn't particularly enjoy opening up to people, but he'd already gone further with Nancy than with anyone else outside his immediate family. 

"Sometimes," he admitted after some consideration. It was hard to put all his emotions into words. "You know what my dad was like. I... I haven't done well with my mom's boyfriends ever since."

"You always find fault in them?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"And Hopper _is_ kind of aggressive, isn't he?"

He fidgeted anxiously. "Sometimes."

"He likes to be in charge. So do you, or at least you don't like it when an older, aggressive man is in charge?"

Mulling over her words, he nodded. He didn't mind his mom ordering him around, or Nancy taking the lead in an investigation when the situation called for it, but _Hopper_? Yeah, he had a problem with that. Nevertheless, it was a problem he should try to get over, because what if he'd soon lose control of himself? Hopper was strong enough to make the tough decisions he didn't want his mom making. Or Nancy, for that matter. 

"Are you finished?" He asked. "I'll go and use the restroom and then I'm ready to leave," he told her.

"Is this all you're eating?"

He shook his head. "We've got work to do, I'll eat more later."

She shot him a stern look which relayed that she knew exactly where his head had gone. "I'll wait at the car."

Shaking out a few quarters from his pocket, Jonathan dialed Hopper's number on the diner's payphone. The call went to the station, and of course he was still out in the field with the body, so he left a message to suggest a meeting before heading for the men's room, as he'd told Nancy he'd be doing. A boy of about eight years old with striking white-blond hair ducked into the toilet as he opened the door.

As Jonathan washed his hands a few minutes later, the other stall opened and a kid with red hair stepped out, forcing him to do a double take.  _What the fuck?_ Allowing the boy to leave, he pushed the stall door fully open to check it for another kid, but it was empty. His hands still wet, he followed the kid out of the restroom. He didn't seem to be paying attention to him, but strode towards the back exit with a determined air. He was going to have to act fast unless he was willing to let the kid slip through their fingers.

Feeling more confident stopping the boy outside, he let the back door close behind him as silently as possible. The kid still seemed none the wiser to the fact that he was being followed. 

"Hey," he called out, keeping his tone friendly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a brown Volvo pulling into an empty parking space nearby. Automatically his hand landed on the gun at his waist.

The boy jumped a little, but turned. "Hi," he replied shyly.

"Are you lost?" Asked Jonathan, his eyes darting to the car. He'd have to try to lead the boy to Nancy and their car in the front.

The boy shook his head. "No, Papa's coming for me."

 _Papa?_ Shivers of the bad kind ran through his body. Surely it couldn't be...

"Well, how about you come and sit down with me and my friend Nancy until your papa comes? We can even call him if you want to."

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Me? Are you not supposed to talk to people in general?"

"No. You, and your girlfriend."

Jonathan swallowed. All right, this was getting creepy. _Was this a trap? And even if it was, could he leave the boy?_

"Did they tell you why?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"You work for the police. You don't like kids like me."

"Like what?"

"That know things."

"What do you know?"

"I can be anyone," said the boy with pride in his voice.

"That's what I thought. That's a really cool gift, you know?" He replied softly.  "We're not a danger to you. Will you come with me? Please?" He pleaded, aware now that someone was getting out of the Volvo.

The boy paused. "Where will you take me?"

About to lie that they wouldn't be going anywhere, Jonathan changed his mind at the last possible second. Maybe this kid didn't like _Papa_ any more than El had? 

"To a safe place."

"Papa won't find me?"

"No, he won't. I promise."

The man driving the Volvo was now completely visible. Jonathan's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the man. They really had been followed all the way to Hawkins.  _Shit._

Leading the boy to the front of the diner as fast as he could, he made a conscious decision not to look back, and yet he could still feel the man's gaze on them.

***

There was only one possible place they could drive with the new kid- who had revealed his name to be Justin- along for the ride. 

“Jonathan, Nancy? What are you two- my God, you found _another_ child?”

“We did, and there’s something we need to talk about. Can we go inside, Mom?”

“Of course, come on in.”

“Where’s Hopper?”

His mother shrugged. “I think he’s still at the murder scene from this morning. Adam’s in his room, I just checked. Where did you find the other boy?”

“Jonathan found him at the diner.”

“Justin here is a shapeshifter,” he explained.

His mother’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. Can you show her, Justin?”

Justin’s eyes focused on Jonathan’s face and ten seconds later an identical twin of his was standing in Justin’s place. The feeling of looking at an exact replica of yourself was downright creepy, and to nobody’s wonder, elicited a horrified gasp from his mother.

“It’s true.”

Nancy nodded. “I know we’re asking for a lot here, Mrs. Byers, but can he stay here, too? We need to leave tomorrow and we can’t take him back to D.C. with us.”

“Of course he’ll stay here. It’s not an issue.”

“Not even for Hopper?”

“I’ll handle him.”

Thankfully Justin returned to his former appearance, and Joyce was able to muster a genuine smile at the boy.

“Hi Justin. I’m Joyce, and you’re going to be staying with us for a while. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” The boy admitted.

“He must be a little younger than Adam,” whispered Nancy.

“Yeah, I think so too. Maybe by a few years.”

“If there are more of them, we can’t keep piling them up here, Jonathan. We need to solve this so they can be safely looked after by the system,” she sighed.

Nancy had a point there. There was a limited number of rooms in the house, not to mention that his mom and Hopper were not in the business of running a safe house for children with supernatural abilities.

“Well, Justin said he was going to meet ‘Papa’.”

“ _Papa?_ Isn’t that what El called Dr. Brenner?”

“Yeah. But I don’t know if Justin could really be talking about the same guy.”

“He’s supposed to be dead, to start with.”

“Exactly. I think Justin could be a bait, sent to either trap us or to spy on us," he said.

Nancy frowned. "Would that matter?"

"No, which is why I brought him along from the diner."

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall. 

"Anything else you didn't tell me while we were in the car?"

Rubbing his tired eyes, Jonathan nodded. "Remember the guy we first saw in D.C, and then on the way here?"

"Yeah?"

"He was at the diner, driving a brown Volvo."

"Fuck," she hissed. 

"We may not have long until they make a move on us, Nancy."

"I think we should drive home tonight. I'll do the driving if you're too tired."

He hesitated as he still had to speak to Hopper. 

"The kids and your mom will be safer if we're not here," she argued. 

"You're right. Let's go," he nodded.


End file.
